Lightning
by EnglishTeaRoses
Summary: After a Quidditch accident in a violent thunderstorm, Ginny and Draco are thrown together, much to their mutual distaste ... or is it? GWDM, first fic, will update regularly. Please R&R! Rated for later chapters, for language et al.
1. The Accident

This fanfic is starts immediately after the end of OotP (I am pretty much in denial about HBP!) I'm going to try really hard to make sure that I don't write anyone too OOC, so I want you all to tell me if I slip up! I also won't be introducing any major OCs. All reviews are appreciated, especially constructive criticism; I'm open to all comments and want to improve my writing. Oh - and also tell me if I get anything wrong - I try to stick to canon as much as possible, but I'm definitely not infallible!

I'm going to put thoughts in italics, just in case you get confused.

The usual disclaimer applies: I don't own any of these characters or anything connected to Harry Potter, I'm not making any money out of this, etc. etc. Don't sue me, I'm impoverished enough as it is. Let's all feel sorry for me...deprived, impoverished student that I am...ah well! On with the story!

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_Loud roared the dreadful thunder,_

_The rain a deluge of showers._

**from Andrew Cherry's 'Bay of Biscay'**

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Ginny Weasley sighed heavily, wriggling slightly on her broomstick. Her behind felt completely numb. The soft sound of her sigh was immediately snatched away by the howling wind; it tugged at her robes and whipped her hair, so that her normally pale face was flushed with cold and the lashings of her sodden auburn locks. She squinted, turning around to watch as her team-mates circled their Slytherin opponents, for once struggling to capture the Quaffle. Ginny herself, normally so adept in the air, was struggling to keep her balance in the furious gale.

The Quidditch pitch now seemed to be less turf than a soupy bog, relentlessly pummelled by the driving rain that was robbing the Gryiffindor team of their usual excellence. Ginny was sure that the gloom was prolonging the match; Harry had usually caught the Snitch by now, but as she watched he was slowly lapping the pitch above her head, closely tailed by the opposing Seeker, Draco Malfoy.

Ginny could just about make out the crisp tones of Terry Boot, the current commentator, barely audible above the wind despite the sonorous charm.

"And just to recap, folks, the score is still 30-all, with Slytherin in possession of the Quaffle..."

With a brief burst of speed, Ginny flew forwards to shadow Vaisey, the Chaser with the Quaffle. Almost absently she dodged a Bludger, watching with mild satisfaction as it soared past her and proceeded to hit Urquhart, intent on the Gryffindor goalposts, squarely in the back.

Ginny neatly dived down to catch the large red ball that fell from his ham-like fists. Zigzagging around the other players, she tossed the ball to Katie Bell, then glanced over her shoulder to check on Harry's progress. He was making casual swoops around the pitch, flitting around Rons posts, Draco Malfoy a silvery-green blur above.

A flash of lightning briefly lit the sky, closely followed by a low rumble of thunder. It sounded as though the gods were playing bowling, Ginny thought with half-hearted amusement. She blinked as a bolt of blue-white seared across her eyes. That was very close, she though, listening with awe to the long, grumbling boom of thunder that followed. She smelt something a little like charred wood, felt the searing heat in the air around her as the phosphorescence momentarily blinded her.

_That was too close!_

And then, before the heavenly drums had finished rumbling, there was a monumental _crack!_, a sensation of blazing pain...agony, agony, and she was falling...falling...

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Draco Malfoy, notorious pureblood heir and self-styled Slytherin sex-god, was bored. Not just bored, in fact, he was bored, wet, tired, fed-up and just generally miserable. This blasted Quidditch match had already lasted over an hour, and Draco, just getting over a cold, was soaked to the bone and starting to shiver rather violently. He'd almost be glad if Potter caught the Snitch, just so he could get warm and dry. Almost.

Drawing his brows together, he scowled and redoubled his efforts to search for the elusive golden prize.

Damn Potter, anyway.

The storm seemed to intensify as blue-white streaks of lightning split the iron-grey sky, and Draco peered concernedly around the pitch; that thunder was too loud, it sounded as though Thor was waging war directly over the castle.

He heard a loud, sharp sound, akin to the cracking of a whip, or gunfire, and whirled around just in time to be dazzled by a second bolt. He heard a scream, and a shout of joy.

Time seemed to slow own; he watched as the players around him slow to a crawl in the air, Potter leaning down, arm outstretched to take the Snitch from the air before him. But even as the phosphorescence from the lighting made his eyes sting and water, it burned into the back of his skull an image as terrifying as it was vivid.

He knew instinctively that he would never be able to forget this picture - the form of a girl in red and gold robes, falling between two pieces of a broomstick snapped in half, red hair streaming wetly out behind her, head snapped back so that he could see with inescapable clarity the expression of mingled pain and fear on her too-pale face.

As he stared, transfixed, the roaring of the wind in his eardrums seemed to change to a keening sound, a song so pure and joyful that it made his heart ache, and he wept as though lamenting the loss of his mother.

Without knowing what he was doing, responding to some deeply-buried instinct, he urged his Nimbus forwards and dived down, arms outstretched, ready to catch the girl in his sturdy Seeker's arms.

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Ginny awoke to strange sensations. She smelled mud, and cleaning agents, and a spicy, musky smell that she associated with dragonhide. She felt pain. It was not a sharp pain, like the barely remembered heat of the lightning, but a dull, throbbing ache that pervaded her entire body and made her catch her breath in a sob.

Her eyes flew open to stare at a vast sea of pure white.

_Am I dead?_ she wondered. No, she decided, she was not dead. Surely in death she would not feel this way, she would not have this terrible, heart-rending, aching sense of - of loss.

As she sat up, slowly and stiffly, she jerked sideways so violently that she almost fell out of bed, responding to some inner sense of a desperate need to be _over there_.

_Bed! Hospital wing! _her mind made the connections quickly - _the lightning strike_.

But that did not explain the pain in her chest, the tightness, the feeling of an inexorable force pulling her _that way_.

It was unbearable. She felt as though she would die, she _was_ dying...

She swung her legs away from the crisp white sheets and half-walked, half-staggered towards that _something_ tugging at her, insensible with panic and fear and pain. With each step that she took, the pain seemed to ease, so she carried on, gaining speed as the release from pain gave her greater self-control.

She came to a white curtain not dissimilar to the one surrounding the bed she had just vacated. With an increasing sense of urgency, she yanked the curtains aside and lurched to the bed. Not knowing what she did or why, she climbed in as quickly as she could, heart pounding, head reeling, feeling that she would die if she did not.

All at once the tightness in her chest evaporated and she was all but overcome with a sense of utter contentment - as though something had slid into place, and all that was left was perfection.

Overwhelmed with happiness she closed her eyes, falling into blissful oblivion, arms clutching tightly at the body next to hers.

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Draco had been awake all night. His memories of the evening were a hazy blur, punctuated by flashes of red hair, red Quidditch robes, red blood&

He had caught the girl as she was falling, cradled her in his arms as they drifted to the ground. He had looked at her in her red-gold perfection and known that she was his. Harry Potter had caught the Snitch; he heard muffled cheering. But what was Quidditch next to her? Her heavy breathing. The way her torso moved up and down as she breathed. The dark circles under her eyes. The pale dusting of freckles across her nose.

Then teachers had come, had interfered, had tried to take her away. He had found he could not let go. Did not want to. Carried her to the hospital wing. Laid her on the bed. Held her hands, stroked her hair.

They tried to make him let go. He could not. Snarled at Madam Pomfrey as she tried to prise him away, resentful, hurt, angry. She was his. He could not leave her.

A voice in the back of his mind had told him to let go. That he was being foolish, disgracing the Malfoy name. He should let her go and curl his lip in scorn. But he could not. Eventually, he knew, they had Stunned him. Carried him to another bed, believing that he, too, was suffering from something.

He had woken up with a burning, raging sense of loss. He felt bereft, torn away from reality, spinning in desolation. He fought like a madman, but seemed to be surrounded by an invisible cage. He knew the teachers did not want him near the girl again. The knowledge drove him crazy. He threw himself against the walls of his magical prison, howling his defiance to the world.

Then, he grew quiet, as sorrow overtook him. Sang love ballads in a mournful baritone, wept, called out her name, reached for her.

Eventually, he cried himself to sleep, trying to forget her, unable to forget the physical agony caused by separation.

He awoke to feeling of completion in his heart, his soul, that was so sweet it was almost painful. The pleasure was so great, it almost eclipsed the physical sensation of a soft, warm body throwing itself against him with a glad cry.

As her arms curled around him, he watched her, feeling detached from the world; he felt more a part of her than himself. Watching her sleeping, thought was eclipsed with the knowledge that she was his, and he was hers, and this was truth.

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"Wake up, rise and shine," Madam Pomfrey said cheerfully, pulling back the curtain surrounding Ginny Weasley's bed in the hospital wing. The bed was empty. "Oh, dear Merlin," she said with the first cold shivers of panic.

Then, as she whirled around to check the bathroom, she suddenly found that she knew where the Weasley girl would be, and it would not be performing morning ablutions.

Setting her mouth in a grim smile, she headed over to the bed currently occupied by Draco Malfoy.

She roughly pulled the curtain aside, preparing to give the pair a tongue-lashing immediately. Her stern expression softened slightly at the somewhat endearing sight of the two young people, embracing chastely, if rather too close for comfort.

She wondered what had drawn these two together. None of the staff had known of their apparent attachment until the previous night; they seemed the last couple to become lovers, the two children of families with a long history of enmity. But then, she mused, the same could have been said for Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet.

"Time to wake up," she said briskly, reaching down to sake them both vigorously by the shoulders. "Now, I'm going to be lenient this time, but really you two should remain in your own beds for the duration of the night. Further visitations will be punished."

The Weasley girl opened bleary eyes and yawned widely, blinking sleepily. Malfoy snapped open clear grey eyes immediately, sitting up sharply as though he had never been asleep. Madam Pomfrey noticed that they were holding hands.

"What's going on?" demanded the pale boy imperiously. "Why am I in the hospital wing? There's nothing wrong with me. And what is this girl," he looked down at Ginny distastefully, "doing in my bed?"

"Yes, what exactly am I doing here?" Ginny joined in immediately, her tone more reserved. Suddenly she too snapped up into a sitting position, and glared at Malfoy. "You arrogant brute! Did you try to molest me or something?" Her voice was hard with anger.

"Don't be ridiculous," he replied scornfully. "You threw yourself at me, more likely."

Irate, confused, and hardly knowing why, Ginny slapped him across his left cheek with her free hand, not noticing how the other was occupied.

"Ow!" Malfoy cried in astonished outrage, cupping his cheek in his free hand.

At the same time, Ginny recoiled, gasping as she felt a stinging sensation across her left cheekbone.

"Now, now, children! No more fighting, or I'll have to deduct points," reprimanded Madam Pomfrey brusquely . "I need to examine Miss Weasley, so if you would like to and use the bathroom, Mr Malfoy, you can return in a few minutes."

Draco slid out of bed, sliding Ginny a dirty look. As he began to make his way over to the hospital bathroom, he noticed that Ginny was following him.

"Stop following me!" he commanded angrily.

"I can't!" she retorted, just as angry. "You've got my hand!"

"Well, let go then!"

She tried to, envisaged uncurling her fingers and pulling away. "I can't," she said, anger forgotten in concern.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Well, you let go then."

Draco found that his fingers, too, were strangely reluctant to release the warm hand in his.

"Oh, sweet Merlin!" exclaimed Pomfrey in exasperation. She strode forwards and forcefully pulled the two apart.

Instantly, they bent over, faces contorted, crying out as though in pain. The two hands reached blindly for one another, and as soon as they touched, the pain seemed to leave, and they leant against each other, gasping for breath, faces mirroring each other's shock.

The healer stared at them, biting her lip as a terrible suspicion began to form in her mind. "On second thoughts, maybe not," she murmured.

"What's happening?" demanded Draco, white-faced but still imperious.

"Sit down," said madam Pomfry heavily, pointing to the bed. Still weak from the pain of separation, they did as they were told without question.

"Now. What exactly happened last night? Try to tell me in as much detail as possible."

Ginny and Draco exchanged curious glances.

"I don't remember much," said Ginnt uncertainly. "I was flying, tailing the Slytherin Chaser, Vaisey, and it was stormy. There was a bolt of lightning, too close to me, I think it burned my broomstick. And then...I think there was another one. All I can remember is a bright light and lots of pain."

"What about you, Mr Malfoy?" asked Pomfrey thoughtfully. "Now you be sure to tell me the truth," she added sternly, seeing him raise his arrogant head with a glint in his eye.

Draco sneered sharply. "There was a lightning bolt. It hit the girl's broomstick, seared it in half. She fell, and I was close by, so I caught her...quite a neat piece of flying, if I do say so myself. Not so sure she was worth it."

"Malfoy," warned the Professor, as she caught the wounded expression on Ginny's face. Her face softened as Draco tried to cover up his remorseful look. "Do you...remember anything _after _that, Mr Malfoy?"

"Not much," he said shortly. "I know I couldn't let her go, I'll be damned if I know why. Clinging to a bloody Weasley, I ask you." His lip curled again.

"Is there nothing else you remember about catching Miss Weasley? Nothing at all?" Madam Pomfrey asked, an intense expression on her face as she leant forwards.

Draco hesitated.

"It could be of vital importance to curing you both!"

"Curing? What do you mean, 'curing'?" demanded Ginny, at he same time as Draco reluctantly started to speak.

"Malfoy first!" the healer commanded.

"Well," he hesitated once more. "I may have imagined it - it was quite a strange few moments - but I thought I heard singing."

"Singing?" repeated Ginny incredulously.

"Yes, dunderhead, singing," replied Draco acidly. "More a sort of keening, actually. Almost like...like the song of the mer-people." He glared at Madam Pomfrey defiantly, as though daring her to disbelieve him.

"Try and let go again."

"I don't want to," said Ginny immediately.

Pomfrey and Draco turned to her in astonishment.

"What?"

The red-head blushed. "I don't know why I said that. It just sort of slipped out."

"Well, it's only to be expected," said Draco casually.

Now it was Ginny's turn to look at him in amazement.

"Well, how often does a Weasley get a chance to lay her hands on something as good as this? I bet she's savouring the experience."

Ginny hit him again, gently, laughing this time, much to her own surprise.

"Focus, please," reprimanded Madam Pomfrey. "I want you to really try this time."

"Ok."

Ginny took a deep breath and tried to steel herself against the pain that she knew would come. She had an irrational desire to keep hold of his hand forever, and a sharp pain seemed to lance through her heart as she thought that he couldn't wait to let go and leave her.

Draco gritted his teeth and tried to fill himself with determination. It didn't really work; he kept on getting distracted by the heady scent of her perfume, and the warmth of her small, delicate hand in his. He suddenly felt protective, did not want to let her go and face the world alone. He stared at her pale face and knew she must be hating every moment of this, counting down the seconds till she could let go. A bruising, aching pain filled his chest like a cloud.

_I don't want to let go._

"What was that?"

"What did you say?"

Madam Pomfrey was confused. "What? Neither of you said anything!"

"He did, I heard him!" protested Ginny.

"I didn't say anything, she did!"

They looked at each other blankly.

Madam Pomfrey looked from one to the other. For the first time in her medical career, she was completely at a loss.

"I have to confess, I can't make head nor tail of this," she said, shaking her head. "I'm going to go and fetch the Headmaster."

"Dumbledore?" said Draco uneasily. "What for?"

"Never you mind," said Pomfrey firmly. "Just stay here and don't move, both of you, until I get back."

As she left, Ginny turned back to Malfoy and punched him on his free arm, wincing as she felt a sharp stab of pain in her own arm.

"What was _that_ for?" he cried indignantly. "And what is it with you and hitting me?"

"This is all your fault," she told him, frowning crossly. "I don't know how, and I don't particularly want to know, but it is."

"Oh yes," spat Draco bitterly. "Of course it's my bloody fault. It couldn't possibly be anything to do with you, not the perfect, model Gryffindor prefect. Oh no." He gave a short, mocking laugh. "It has to be the mean, nasty Slytherin."

"Oh, piss off, Malfoy," snapped Ginny, too annoyed to think of a decent comeback.

"Love too," said Draco, shaking their joined hands. "But I'm finding it a little tricky at the moment."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Suddenly Ginny brightened.

"I take it we won, then?" she asked, smiling.

Draco blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, if the Slytherin Seeker," she poked Draco with her free hand, "was busy catching one Ginny Weasley, then Harry must have caught the Snitch!"

Draco narrowed his eyes shrewdly. "I guess so..."

Ginny shifted uncomfortably. "What?"

Draco continued to star at her. "Well...why isn't he here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why isn't Wonder Boy sitting here instead of me? Why did he, the _hero_," and Draco couldn't stop himself sneering, "head for the Snitch instead of going after you?"

Ginny look at him, wide-eyed. Why indeed? And more to the point, why had the cold, uncaring Draco Malfoy caught her instead of the glittering Golden Snitch?

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Please R&R, it's my first fic! Love ya all!


	2. Potions

Back again! And ahead of schedule, too! Again, forgive any mistakes as this has not been beta-ed. I'm not too happy with this chapter either. It was rushed. Standard disclaimer applies:

I don't own anything related to Harry Potter. Unfortunately.

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_Sleep is the best cure for waking troubles. _**- Cervantes**

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Albus Dumbledore surveyed the two students over the top of his half-moon glasses, his face inscrutable.

His stare was long and intense, so that Ginny and Draco exchanged nervous glances, shifting uneasily in their seats.

Madam Pomfrey wrung her hands together. "I simply cannot understand it, Albus! I've never, in my entire medical career, seen anything like this!"

"Calm down, Poppy," said the Headmaster, with the slightest hint of annoyance in his voice. "I think I know what has happened here, and it is not something that would usually come under the care of a Healer."

"You know what's wrong?" asked Ginny eagerly.

"I suspect, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said gravely, "but there is only really one way to be sure. With your permission, and of course young Mr Malfoy's," he nodded courteously at Draco, "there is a basic test I would like to perform on you both."

"What kind of a test?" demanded Draco, a little too brusque for politeness.

Dumbledore's voice was heavy. "There is a potion…undoubtedly Professor Snape has samples in his stores. You simply take a sip each, and with the results, all will become clear."

"What do you mean, 'the results'?" asked Draco suspiciously.

"I cannot exactly be sure. As I have said, there is really only one way to be certain of anything, and that is to perform the test."

Ginny shrugged, looking askance at the pale boy beside her. "Anything you say is fine by me, Professor. I trust you." She smiled up at him.

Dumbledore's wizened face crinkled in a returning smile, and, in a rare gesture of affection, he gently reached out his frail hand and cupped her little chin in it, lifting her face to the light. "You are a very dear child." He sighed heavily, and drew back to turn to Madam Pomfrey.

Ginny was a little startled; not by his touch, certainly, for older people had responded to her flowerlike face with that same gesture for as long as she could remember, but rather that he had, for a moment, stopped being the all-powerful Headmaster of Hogwarts, but had simply been a very sweet, very old man.

Draco jerked their linked hands suddenly, bringing her back to reality.

"I am going to go and fetch Severus," Dumbledore was saying. "I want you to keep these two under close observation until I get back."

"Of course, Headmaster."

Ginny looked up at Draco again. Strange, to think that she had never really paid much attention to him before. Never really looked at him. She'd always assumed that he was ugly, pale and pinched-looking, but he was really terribly good looking. Long, silver-blonde hair…her fingers itched to run through the unbound length of it. Ginny shivered. She'd always had a weakness for handsome, blonde-haired men.

"Like what you see?" cam Draco's smooth, assured voice, mocking her. "If you ask nicely I might sign a photograph for you." He smirked, causing Ginny to look away, blushing madly.

"Eat dirt, Malfoy."

Whilst Ginny was busy examining the counterpane, Draco took the opportunity to study her. Why had he been so mean? She was sure to hate him now. He watched her flush, an unbecoming bright red, travel down her cheeks, to her neck…he wondered if it reached her breasts?

_Stop it! Bad Draco!_

His face regaining its accustomed scowl, Draco remembered who she was. _A Weasley_, his mind sneered, _a muggle-loving, blood-traitorous brat. _

Suddenly Ginny looked up at him, astonished. "Excuse me," she said, her voice quiet. "_What _did you just say to me?"

Draco was puzzled. "I didn't say anything. Perhaps you're hearing things," he sneered, out of habit.

"Oh please," Ginny snapped. "Don't insult my intelligence. You just called me a 'muggle-loving, blood-traitorous brat', you priggish, upper-class swine!"

Draco paled. _Merlin, don't tell me this girl's an Occlumens, on top of everything else!_

"Of course I'm not an Occlumens! And I'll thank you to stop making fun of me!"

Draco could only stare. _You're reading my mind, Weasel._

"I _said_ stop it, Ferret Boy!"

"Madam Pomrefy, could you come over here for a second?" called Draco, not taking his eyes off the irate redhead.

The stout matron bustled over, her kindly eyes still tinged with worry. "What is it, Mr Malfoy?"

"I'm going to think of a number, and I want to see if either of you can guess it," he said slowly.

"I haven't got time for games, young man," snapped the Healer. Ginny simply glared, mute.

"Just humour me for a moment, will you?"

Pomfrey clucked her tongue, but stayed where she was.

_374._

"374, well that was hard," said Ginny sarcastically. "I thought we were supposed to guess your thoughts, Malfoy. It sort of defeats the object when you say it aloud."

"I didn't say it out loud!" exclaimed Draco. "Did I?" He appealed to the older woman.

"The number? No."

"Madam Pomfrey, I think Weasley can read my mind."

She sniffed. "Please, Mr Malfoy. I hardly think that likely."

Ginny's tawny eyes hardened like agates. "I've already asked you not to make fun of me, Malfoy," she said, as angrily as she dared in front of the Healer.

"Look, I'm going to think of something really inane, OK? I bet you anything you'll hear it."

_The time has come, the walrus said, to think of other things._

Ginny looked as him as though he was insane. "You're quoting Lewis Caroll?"

"I didn't hear him say anything," interjected Madam Pomfrey. "Are you two just trying to play a silly, adolescent trick on me?"

"Madam Pomfrey, I would never!" protested Ginny, a little hurt.

"Well, I really cannot make head nor tail of this!" said Pomrey, for the second time that day.

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance," came the silky tones of the Potions Professor. Snape walked forward, accompanied by the Headmaster. His black eyes ran over the pair with barely-concealed distaste.

"Professor, are you sure about this?" he asked, turning to Dumbledore with a thin smile. "In my opinion, this looks like a simple case of teenage infatuation and…youthful spirits. I frankly expected better of Mr Malfoy, he is a model student, but the girl…she is a Weasley after all…"

"That will do, Severus," said Dumbledore firmly. "The potion, if you please."

Snape looked disappointed. "Of course, Headmaster." From his robes, he drew two tiny glass vials, filled with a silvery liquid. Both students took the vials with apprehension, Draco handling his awkwardly with his left hand.

"It is vital that you drink them the very moment they are uncorked," said Snape intently. "Do not let any escape."

"Professor Dumbledore, there's something I need to tell you first," Ginny burst out, interrupting the Slytherin Head of House.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Weasley, for rudeness," said Snape smoothly.

Dumbledore glanced at him. "Patience, Severus. What is it, Miss Weasley?"

"Malfoy thinks I can read his mind, sir!" she continued, glaring at Snape.

"Indeed. Well, I think the time has come for you to drink the potion, Miss Weasley. That goes for you too, Mr Malfoy," he said sharply.

"But it's the truth," said Draco. "I really think she can."

"Mr Malfoy, kindly do as you are told," snapped Snape. "The reason that you are taking this potion is to find out the cause of this! Now drink it before I give you both detention!"

He swept forwards to uncork their vials. They drank simultaneously.

It felt like trying to drink mist, or gaseous quicksilver; Ginny struggled to swallow, she wanted to sputter and gag.

Draco forced it down first, then gasped for air, shuddering. "Well, that was pleasant," he gasped.

Ginny suddenly felt and unnatural heat rage through her body. She felt as though she was burning from the inside out; sweat poured out of her and she began to cry in pain. The only cool part of her body was her hand…or was it Draco's hand? She couldn't tell.

Simultaneously, Draco yelled as he felt somebody pour a bucket of ice-cold water over his head - at least, that was what it felt like. He began to shiver violently, his teeth chattering so badly he felt as though they would shatter and break. But his hand - or was it Ginny's? His hand felt gloriously, wonderfully warm.

"Well, this is interesting," murmured Dumbledore, watching the pair as they began to glow.

"Textbook reaction," said Snape, eyes glittering with a strange emotion. "Got to be the first recorded case in decades. Centuries, even."

Pomfrey whimpered, hands over her eyes to shield them from the intense, burningly cold light that emanated from the two.

As suddenly as it had begun, it was over, leaving the pair panting and leaning against one another, their faces mirroring a powerful shock.

Draco was the first to speak.

"What in blazes was that all about?" he ground out angrily. "Were you trying to kill us?"

"Please calm down," said Dumbledore. "Trust us. You'll feel better in a moment or two. Poppy, perhaps a little chocolate?"

"Of course, Professor."

Ginny and Draco found themselves quickly soothed as they bit into large chunks of Honeyduke's finest.

"I think I'll leave you to it," said Snape, grinning unpleasantly. "I take it you no longer need me here, Headmaster."

"No, thank you, Severus." After silently contemplating the two students for a long moment, Dumbledore suddenly leaned forwards. "I believe some explanations are in order. Mr Malfoy, when you saved Miss Weasley, you unknowingly invoked a very powerful and ancient piece of magic. Have either of you ever heard of -" for the first time he hesitated. "Well, I suppose the most common term is soul-twinning."

Ginny shook her head slowly, but Draco's argent eyes were filled with fear.

"It is a curse," he whispered.

"No, Mr Malfoy, it is not a curse. It is a bonding of the most profound form between two magical individuals. An occurrence so rare that it is little documented even in the oldest tomes. Had you continued to fall, Miss Weasley, has you not been rescued - you would have died. You owe your life to this boy. And so, unconsciously, you reached out. With consequences that no one could have foreseen." He sighed heavily.

"But Professor, what does this mean?" Ginny's eyes were wide.

"Practically, you mean? Well, any number of things. As I said, this is not a topic that we have too much information on. Certainly you may not leave each other for the time being. Eventually, you will be able to be physically separate, this we know, but you will never be able to be too far apart without experiencing some pain. And the likelihood is that you will always be mentally linked."

"Mentally linked? You mean, she'll be able to read my mind forever?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "It's not exactly mind-reading, Mr Malfoy. Besides," he said, obviously amused, "_the mirror works both ways_."

"What?"

"Professor, what about the hand thing?" interrupted Ginny anxiously, waving their entwined limbs. "I mean, I really need to shower…" She trailed off as Draco leered at her.

"We'll work something out," Dumbledore said. "But in the meantime, I think you two ought to be excused from lessons. You should stay here until you can both let go. Poppy, I leave them in your more than capable hands. I will check up on them periodically.

Draco watched the old man's retreating back, his mind reeling.

Madam Pomfrey tried to control her shock by bustling into action. "Well, I think showers ought to be our first priority. Any ideas, you two?"

After a lot of arguing all round, exasperation from Pomfrey, anger from Ginny and some very crude suggestions from Draco, they finally came up with a simple suggestion.

"Are you done yet?" complained Draco, moving his hand restlessly.

"Be patient," replied Ginny, frantically scrubbing with her free hand. "It's harder to exfoliate one-handed than you'd think. And keep your hand still!"

Draco fidgeted with his blindfold. "I'm getting sprayed by the shower," he grumbled petulantly.

_She's busy washing, I bet I could just slip this blindfold off and she'd never even suspect. _Draco smirked to himself.

"Draco Malfoy if you even consider contemplating thinking that thought again, I swear I will hex you into next week."

_Spoil sport._

"Sleazy Slytherin jerk," replied Ginny, hastily grabbing a towel as she jumped out of the shower. "Your turn."

Draco quickly tied his blindfold securely round her eyes and stripped, pausing to admire her scantily clad figure before jumping under the scalding jets of water.

Dressing again proved even more difficult, even with Madam Pomfrey's aid. By the end of it, Ginny was near tears, and Draco was frustrated enough not to mock her for it.

They sat on the edge of Draco's bed, holding hands, staring at the floor. "This is so horrible!" sniffed Ginny, trying not to sound like a child.

Without really thinking, Draco drew her close, squeezing her hand. "Don't worry. It can't last forever."

Ginny smiled. "That was such an un-Malfoy thing to say."

"I'm comforting myself more than you, you know," he retorted, but somehow his hand on hers took the sting out of the words.

"Well, I hope you're right. Imagine, dragging you round Gryffindor tower! Ron would murder you."

"As if I would ever set foot there! If it comes to it, you can come to the dungeons with me."

"No matter what, I'd never sleep in that serpent's nest. I probably wouldn't make it through the night."

"That isn't really an issue though, is it?" intervened Madam Pomfry with forced cheerfulness, setting down their lunch tray on the bedside table. "You're both going to be staying here for the time being, where I can keep an eye on you! There's to be no hanky-panky in my san, thank you very much!" She added sternly.

"I would never lay a hand on a muggle-loving _Weasley_."

"I would never stoop so low as a _Malfoy_."

But their minds betrayed them. As the Healer left, Ginny ginned conspirationally at Draco. "This is actually really cool. You can never lie to me!"

"Yeah, well , you neither." Draco said shortly. "I may like you right now, but rest assured, it can only be the affect of this damned curse! In a few days I can go back to hating you again!" The venom in his voice surprised them both.

"Well, Malfoy, if that's the way you feel about it…" Ginny shrugged, reaching for a roll. "I guess maybe we should try to let go again later."

"Yeah, later."

Ginny winced in remembered pain. _Maybe we should just stay like this forever._

Draco frowned at her.

_Or maybe not. _She concentrated on eating, trying not to think so loudly.

Draco toyed with his food. They were sitting in a patch of sunshine, and the light was throwing coppery, red-gold highlights into Ginny's hair. He suppressed the desire to curl a lock around his finger.

Somehow, they made it through the day. They were both unnaturally tired, from the after-effects of the potion, and from the constant bickering. They lay down in beds pushed close together - but not touching. It was awkward, as they both had to lay on their sides, arms outstretched towards each other.

Ginny closed her eyes and counted sheep, falling asleep quickly as was her habit.

Draco was not so lucky. For many hours he lay awake, trying not to stare to Ginny's sleeping face. Trying to forget the enticing, intoxicating scent of her sun-warmed hair. Trying - and failing.

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Please, please, please R&R! Thanks to:

Beckysue2

Nyah1

Ange de l'eau

Kyma

I'm Blond. James Blond.

For reading and reviewing! My very first reviewers!


	3. Letting Go

Hi again, people! And once again, ahead of schedule -looks supremely smug- Thanks to all of my lovely reviewers! You are all totally awesome people! Please be sure to tell me if the story is too clichéd or the characters are OOC or whatever. Please bear in mind that this is not HBP compatible. On with the story!

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_Oh hast thou forgotten how soon we must sever?_

_Oh hast thou forgotten this day we must part?_

_It may be for years and it may be forever;_

_Oh why art thou silent, thou voice of my heart?_

**from Julia Crawford's 'Kathleen Mavourneen'**

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Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue in irritation as she drew the curtains around the twin beds of Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy. At some point in the night, the Weasley girl had crept into Malfoy's bed, and they slept pressed tightly together.

Crossly, Pomfrey reached down to shake both their shoulders - and none too gently.

"Up! Up, now!" she commanded, her strident voice breaking the early morning stillness.

Ginny opened sleep-befuddled eyes and blinked stupidly. Draco, as always, snapped his eyes open as if he had not been asleep, but merely pretending to. Seeing the titan girl pressed into his side, he pushed himself upright with a sound of disgust.

"What - oh." He remembered. "Great. Another day of this."

"Exactly," said the irritable Healer. "And now it's time to get washed and dressed. I'm not having you playing up like you did yesterday."

The two teenagers, with much grumbling on both parts, got up and dressed, and ready for their day - which seemed to consist of hanging around the infirmary, not doing much.

And so, with no other options, they did what any other two intelligent, mutually-attracted teenagers would do when left alone together for a long period of time. They started to argue.

"I just don't get it," complained Draco, leaning back in his chair. "I mean, what is there not to like? I'm rich, I'm incredibly good looking, I dress better than anyone else in this dump we call a school…" He looked at Ginny appraisingly. "And quite frankly, I don't think you're in a position to criticise, Weasel.'

Ginny bridled at the implied insult. "Maybe you're too in love with yourself to see it," she said icily, "but just about everyone else who has ever met you would agree with me, I'd bet my life."

"Give me one good reason, Weaselette," he said, with an arrogance that made Ginny's fingers itch to pull out his hair, strand by strand. "One thing you don't like about me."

"One?" said Ginny, smiling humourlessly. "Malfoy, I'll give you as many as you like."

"Well, go on then," he demanded, confident she wouldn't come up with anything.

"Fine." Ginny began to count on her fingers. "One - you're _unbelievably _arrogant. Two - you spend most of your life picking on me and my friends. Three - your father is an acknowledged Death Eater."

Draco stiffened, and flexed his fingers as though to withdraw his hand from hers

Ginny continued, ignoring him. "Four - you look down your nose at practically everyone else in the world, just because they're not a sainted Malfoy. It's a wonder you're not cross-eyed. Five - you're a sneaky, underhand, mean and nasty Slytherin. Six - you have absolutely no sense of humour."

"That's not true!" protested Draco, outraged. "I -"

Ginny cut him off with a patented Weasley glare. "_Seven_ - you're a really bad loser. Eight -"

"Alright, alright," Draco shifted uneasily in his chair. "I think I've got the message here. But for the record, you've got it all wrong."

"Oh really." Her tone was flat. "So, you didn't humiliate me in my first year with that Valentine's card I sent Harry?"

"That was a long time ago -"

"You never cheated to try and make Gryffindor lose a Quidditch match?"

"I may have bent the rules a little, but -"

"You've never given first-years the wrong directions to their classrooms?"

"Oh, come on, everyone does that-"

"You never gave a girl the once-over and _laughed_?"

Draco looked at the floor, mumbling.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Ginny leaned forwards, hand to her ear. "Was that a 'yes, Ginny, I am a complete prat, now that you point it out!' Hmm? Was it?"

"Oh, Merlin, you're hardly a saint yourself, Weasel." Draco struggled to regain his poise. "Who are you to sit here lecturing me about morals, Miss I-Hexed-Draco-Last-Year-in-a-Teacher's-Office? And really, what do you know about me? Nothing. This is all pure conjecture."

"I'm not saying I'm perfect, Draco. I'm just saying that you're a complete rat."

For the first time that he could remember, Draco was completely at a loss for words. No-one had ever spoken to him like that before. Not even Blaise.

"Well, maybe it's about time," said Ginny, replying to his unspoken thoughts. "Some things just need saying."

"Well, maybe _you_ need some telling too. You're a condescending, priggish goody-two-shoes, you know that? And your hair is really ghastly."

The corners of Ginny's mouth twitched in amusement. "That's a lie."

"How do you know?" fired Daco back angrily.

_You can't lie to me anymore, remember?_

At first Draco stiffened at the undercurrent of laughter in her thought, but then he relaxed, laughing. "I deserved to be found out anyway," he said wryly. "It's one of the first thing you learn, as a Malfoy - if a lie is going to be believed, it has to have a grain of truth in it." He reached over with his free hand to touch a burnished curl. "It is amazing hair." He said quietly.

Ginny smiled at him, pleased, and they sat in silence for a while.

_I wonder how far this bonding thing goes,_ thought Ginny.

_Well, why don't we test it out? _suggested Draco. _After all, we're stuck here, and there's bugger all else to do. Except argue, and I'm sick of that._

_Alright then_, came Ginny's uncertain tone. _What now?_

Draco thought for a while. _Well…we know we can 'hear' each other when we think 'loudly'. But what about thinking quietly?_

_Oh, you mean, not just the current train of thought, but the subconscious as well?_

_Erm…if you say so. I was thinking more about when we're not actually trying to speak to each other. _

_Well, I suppose there's no harm in trying._

Ginny concentrated on Draco. Her perceptions of him sharpened, she was acutely aware of him, his uncertainty, his attraction to her, an underlying note of fear…

_Bingo_.

Draco suddenly jerked his head around in surprise, looking at Ginny's vacant expression.

_Why don't you just wriggle around a little_, she murmured.

"What?" he exclaimed aloud, alarmed.

_I asked you to move over. I need more ...more...room._

"Weasley…what are you doing?" Draco broke into a nervous sweat.

_Ssh. I'm trying to concentrate in here._

Draco felt as though a whirlwind had just arrived in his head, a kind of surging as though…as though…

_Stop doing that_Ginny commanded.

Draco felt oddly violated, felt Ginny's presence as an intrusion. "I think that's enough now!"

_Please don't talk _and_ think to me at the same time. It gives a very strange feeling in my mind...sort of echoey._

Slowly, the sense of intrusion began to fade, and Draco felt Ginny's presence as an almost physical sensation; it felt, strangely enough, like a cat purring.

_Oh Draco_, came a breathy murmur in his mind

Ginny shook her head violently. "That is certainly very strange." She smiled at Draco, a disconcertingly intense smile.

"Trust me, from this end, it was even stranger. What did you…see?"

"Well, it was much bigger in there than I had anticipated," Ginny said conversationally, a wicked gleam in her amber eyes. "And you're really quite poetic. Hard to believe that you manage to pull off that whole small-minded bigot thing."

"Hmmm," Draco grinned at her too. "Well Weasley, now that you've opened the door, all sorts of different things are coming through. I'm really not complaining, but those kind of thoughts don't seem appropriate for a nice young girl like yourself."

Ginny glared at him.

She was, Draco decided, quite charming when she blushed.

"Do you reckon we should try letting go again now?" asked Ginny hastily, to change the subject. "I mean, now that we seem…"

_So much closer…_

"Exactly, so maybe we don't need the physical contact anymore."

"Maybe…" Draco looked apprehensively at their joined hands. Hers was really a very pretty hand, so silky-soft and warm in his. He noticed a pair of tiny freckles on her thumb.

"Malfoy, please, concentrate."

He snapped to attention. "Of course. On three, then?"

"Right."

"One…two…three!"

They stared at their hands.

"Well, that was successful," said Draco sarcastically. "Great. I really can't be seen like this, you know that? Holding hands with a Gryffindor - a Weasley! Imagine how it would look!"

"Draco, I don't know about you, but I wasn't even trying. I really didn't want to, so as soon as I thought about letting go, my mind just sort of…wandered. I think it might work if we just focus a bit harder."

"I'm a Malfoy," said Draco loftily. "I'm always focussed."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Anything you say. Now let's try that again."

It seemed to take a monumental effort - as Draco raised one finger, he felt a trickle of sweat run down his face. Ginny closed her eyes and bit her lip.

Slowly, oh, so slowly, they inched apart.

Ginny began to cry.

Draco immediately clenched his fist. "We did it," he said between gritted teeth.

The red-headed Gryffindor whimpered, trying to fight back the tears. She held her hand back; she didn't want to be the first to give in to the weakness. Her hand seemed to tingled and burn.

"Fuck this," Draco swore loudly, reaching for her hand and pulling her towards him. Her warm hand was like a balm.

Ginny leant in on his chest, letting her hot tears soak the front of his robes. "That was - horrible," she gulped. Draco said nothing, but held her more tightly.

"At least we know we can, he said finally, pulling away. Dammit, he hadn't meant to hold her like that!

_I am not attracted to Ginny Weasley_, he told himself firmly trying to shield her from the thought.

After she had calmed down, Ginny abruptly stood up, pulling Draco over to the washbasin. Ignoring all of his complaints, she washed her face thoroughly.

Even with red-raw skin, scrubbed with harsh flannel, and red-rimmed eyes puffy with tears, Draco still though Ginny was beautiful. _What's wrong with me_? He thought in disgust.

_The same thing that's wrong with me, I'd imagine. Lets give it another go._

"Are you sure?"

Ginny's face was set.

Draco shrugged. "As my lady wishes," he mocked, trying to disregard his reluctance.

They found it surprisingly easier the second time.

Ginny stood as if rooted to the spot, repeating over and over again. _I do not need Draco Malfoy. I do not need Draco Malfoy. _It seemed to work - almost.

Determinedly, Draco closed his mind to the pain and took a step back. Ginny gasped.

Another step. Another gasp.

Draco's hands were clenched so hard that his nails were digging half-moons into his palms. He turned around. Another step.

Ginny's knees buckled, and she fell to the floor, holding out her hands imploringly.

As Draco turned to face her, he shook his head.

"Please…please…" Ginny moaned.

"No." Draco almost didn't recognise his voice, it was so harsh and flat, distorted with pain. "We have to get used to this."

"How…" Ginny forced the words out between sobs. "How can you be so - so cruel? To me?"

Draco looked away from her outstretched hands. They were trembling. "Do you think I don't feel it too?" he demanded harshly. "It hurts me too. Just as much as you. But we can't give in."

A tear leaked from the corner of his eye. "We can't," he repeated, his voice breaking.

_Oh Draco, please, oh please…I need you…_

Letting out and impatient growl, Draco leapt towards her and grabbed her hand.

Ginny's knees were still weak; this time with relief. Draco stroked her hair.

He couldn't speak; his throat was clogged with unvoiced sobs. _I won't ever leave you. _He said. _I promise, if the pain gets too bad, just call me and I'll come to you. Wherever you are, no matter how far away, I'll hear you, I swear. But we have to do this. _

Sniffling, Ginny nodded. After a few moments she stood up, and held out their hands, her amber eyes dark. "Again."

After several more attempts, they were both physically and mentally exhausted - but they had managed to stay apart for almost an hour. They had found that it helped to stay close to one another. By the time Madam Pomfrey bustled in with the lunch tray, they were sitting on opposite sides of the room, gritting their teeth and clinging to each other's minds.

"Well, here we go then," said Pomfrey, placing the tray on the table next to Draco . "Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed, as she looked up at the pale boy. "Where - where has she gone?"

With a tight smile, Draco pointed over to the armchair where Ginny sat, miserably hunched.

"Oh my," Pomfrey said, staring from one two the other. "This is excellent news! Well done, you two. Now I can have my san back!" she said happily. "Come with me, and we'll gone and see the Headmaster."

Ginny and Draco walked behind her, deliberately not touching, standing a shoulder's width apart.

_It hurts!_ Ginny wailed petulantly. _It really, really hurts! Can't we just - you know, just while we're walking? Please?_

She wiggled her fingers temptingly.

_NO!_ _We'll never beat it if we can't hold it off now. I'm here. I'm with you. Stop being such a wuss!_

When they entered Dumbledore's round office, they carefully sat on either side of the Healer.

As Pomfrey excitedly explained, the old man looked at them both carefully with his piercing blue eyes.

"Ah," he said, quietly. "Well, thank you Poppy, you've done an excellent job, as always. I think I'll take it from here, if you don't mind."

As the office door shut with a faint _click!_, Draco began to speak. "I think we're fine now, Professor, we should be able to go back to classes just like normal. See?" he waved his hand in the air.

Ginny shot him a reproachful glance.

"So it would seem," said Dumbledore carefully. "I don't suppose there have been any…side effects?"

_Better not tell him about this._

_Agreed._

"Side effects, Professor?" Ginny gave him her most wide-eyed, innocent expression.

_Oh, for pity's sake, could you look any more suspicious? _came Draco's thought, tinged with exasperation.

"Why, Professor, should we be expecting any? Like what?" Draco asked, looking genuinely concerned.

"You tell me. This is really a rather unique circumstance. I don't know any more about it that you. All I can do is…guess."

Ginny and Draco exchanged glances. "What kind of things could you guess, Professor?"

"Ah, there's no point in worrying you unduly, if you're both fine at the moment," said Dumbledore carefully. "I don't see any reason not to let you back into lessons, now that you can safely be apart. But I must stress - you must come to me as soon as you experience anything _out of the ordinary_. Anything at all. Even the most trivial thing. I want to know."

The pair exchanged glances again. "Oh yes, we will." They chorused.

As they walked down the long spiral staircase from the office, they held each other's hands tightly again. When they reached the gargoyle statue, Draco took a a deep breath and turned to Ginny.

"Look," he said awkwardly, "it's probably best if we stay away from each other for a while. Stop any rumours."

Ginny nodded. "Of course."

"And when you - or if it -"

"Starts to…hurt?"

"Yes. Then just say. I'll come."

"You too."

"Right."

"Right."

They slowly, unwillingly let go, and turned to walk in opposite directions.

_I guess now we both have what we want._

_Do we? I'm not sure._

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Again, please R&R! I would just like to say that this whole 'mental link' thing is concept I got from these fantasy-sci-fi books I've been reading lately, so don't sue me if I've paraphrased one or two quotes from them. Some of it does bear a certain resemblance to a scene in 'The Redemption of Althalus' by David and Leigh Eddings, but hopefully it's different enough that it doesn't notice. It should be fairly OK; I certainly didn't set out to copy it, it just turned out that way. It's only a very small section anyway.


	4. Explanations

Woo, get me! Yet _another_ chapter out way ahead of schedule. -is really smug- Thanks to all you beautiful people out there who've reviewed! And, in answer to your question, Gabby, yes I have read 'The Redemption of Althalus', but that's not where I got the idea from (see A/N in previous chapter). Apologies if I paraphrased though.

Standard disclaimer applies: I do not own HP & am not making any money out of this (mores the pity) etc. etc.

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_And after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but the truth in masquerade. _

**- From 'Don Juan' by Lord Byron**

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"Well, Miss Weasley, I don't really know what else to say," Minerva McGonagall said, seating herself behind her desk. Ginny watched in fascination; she'd never seen anybody sit like that before - completely upright, totally straight. Not a hint of a slouch.

_I suppose Professor McGonagall was taught to use a backboard_, she thought amusedly. _Who'd have guessed?_

_What's a backboard? _came a plaintive thought immediately.

_I'll explain later_, Ginny shot back, _so shoo! I've got an important meeting with my Head of House, I'll have you know._

"Miss Weasley, are you listening to me?" McGonagall asked sharply. "I asked you a question."

"Oh, yes Professor," said Ginny hurriedly. "I'm sorry, I'm still a little dizzy." She tried to look pathetic. "But I'm sure I'll be fine in lessons. I don't want to fall any further behind, seeing as it's my OWL year."

The Gryffindor Head of House nodded approvingly. "I see you have your priorities right, in any case. But I'd like an assurance that there will be no…shenanigans with Mr Malfoy again. Such things are highly disruptive to school life."

Was it Ginny's imagination, or was there a hint of a smile in those blue-grey eyes?

"Oh Professor, it was just an accident, that's all. He's a Malfoy and a _Slytherin_." She tried to inject as much venom as she could into that one word. "I won't be spending any time with him again in a hurry."

The corners of the Professor's mouth twitched. "Well, as much as I advocate inter-house co-operation, I have to say I'm relieved. Now, you will come to me if you have any problems, won't you?"

Ginny nodded.

"Your Professors have all been informed of the circumstances, so don't hesitate to ask to be excused. But please do not use this as an excuse to skip lessons," the grey-haired woman said with a piercing look. "I will be keeping a close eye on you, rest assured of that."

"I appreciate that, Professor," Ginny smiled gratefully up at her Professor. "And I will try really hard to catch up, I promise."

"Jolly good then. And do try to get your strength up girl. Gryffindor are playing Hufflepuff in three weeks' time."

Ginny grinned in earnest. "Don't worry, Professor. We'll beat them, no problem."

"Excellent."

As Ginny climbed through the portrait-hole into the Gryffindor common room five minutes later, she felt a familiar aching in her left hand. Shaking her head, she stepped through, expecting the room to be nearly empty. It wasn't, and she blinked in surprise as her brother enveloped her in a bone-cracking hug.

"Gin! Thank Merlin you're alright!"

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"Draco, Draco, Draco," Snape said silkily, shaking his head ever so slightly. "A Weasley. Who'd have thought it? Ingenious, of course, but very brave…assuming that it was planned. That is what your father will say…ingenious. Always knew he had it in him."

Draco kept his face carefully void of emotion. What was Snape talking about?

The Potions Professor chuckled darkly, leaning back in his chair so that his face fell in a pool of shadow. "But it wasn't planned, was it Draco?"

Draco's face was an implacable mask. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Professor."

Snape chuckled again. It disconcerted Draco; it was like hearing a snake purr.

"The bonding, you foolish boy. Do you feel like telling me what possessed you to go after Weasley instead of the Snitch? If we'd won that match, we'd be in a good position to win the Cup."

"Gentlemanly duty, sir. Showed Potter up."

Again, that low, oily laughter. "Such a feeble excuse! I expected better of you Draco. You'll have to come up with something better for Lucius, I hope you know that."

"I owe my father no explanations."

"Draco, Draco," Snape templed his hands on the desk before him. "We both know that is a lie. He will demand explanation. And you will have no choice but to give it to him."

Draco slouched back in his chair and sighed, giving up the pretence. He stared around the room, trying not to meet his Head of House's eyes. Snape's office was dimly lit with a few sputtering candles, the walls lined with huge books and ageing scrolls.

"Draco." Snape, as always, commanded attention.

"Oh, I don't know!" cried Draco. "I just don't know what came over me, Ok? It just sort of happened."

"Well, that's better. Now we're getting somewhere."

"Is that all you can say? Some help you are!"

"I didn't realise you were asking for help, my boy," replied Snape smoothly, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know how much of this Dumbledore has explained to you."

"Worse than nothing," grumbled Draco. "You know what he's like - cryptic little hints, nothing concrete."

"Well, I can help you there. You and the unfortunate Weasley have invoked a pretty piece of magic known as a soul twinning. Its not something that has historically been…publicised. You are bound for life. Most couples are romantically linked. The few examples that we know of are usually very famous - the result of the soul twinning, though few know that. You have probably heard of most of them; Tristan and Isolde are one of the earliest recorded, Wordsworth and Annette Vallon the last."

"How could I possibly have planned it?"

"It is essentially a conscious act. You have to be willing - in effect, you must reach out to each other. Obviously you weren't aware of this at the time. Unfortunate."

"What am I going to say to Father?"

Snape's dark eyes glittered. "Say nothing yet. I will deal with it."

Draco couldn't hide his relief. "Thank you, sir."

"I trust you feel quite well enough to return to your lessons as usual?"

"No need to mock, sir," Draco replied, grinning. "I'll catch up."

"Good, good. Wouldn't want our model Slytherin slipping. I expect that House cup in my study at the end of this year."

"Of course, sir."

"You are dismissed, Draco."

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"Ron, you're choking me," Ginny protested, her voice muffled by Ron's robes.

"Oh, honestly, be sensible, Ron," said Hermione impatiently, pulling the lanky red-head away from his sister. "Ginny! We've been so worried about you!"

Harry peered over Hermione's shoulder, green eyes perturbed. "Yeah, are you OK? What happened with Malfoy?"

Just then Dean Thomas appeared and barged past them all to grab Ginny by the shoulders. "Gin! Babe, what happened?"

"Oh Dean," said Ginny, leaning into him gratefully. "It's been horrible."

They all sat down around the fireplace, eager to hear Ginny's account.

"I just took a really bad fall," she said simply. "Madam Pomfrey said something had bust inside me," she quickly lied, "but she's fixed it now. It was really painful, but I'm fine now."

"What about Malfoy though?" queried Hermione, frowning. "How come he's been in the infirmary too?"

"He took a bad knock to the head when we fell to the ground." Ginny tried not to meet anyone's eyes.

"How come he caught you anyway?" Ron looked puzzled.

"He was hardly going to let me fall, nobody's that heartless."

Harry had the grace to look embarrassed at that. "Look, Ginny -" he hesitated.

Ginny shook her head. "Don't worry about it."

Dean squeezed her hand sympathetically, looking at her with liquid brown eyes. "I've missed you, babe."

"Missed you too." Ginny leaned forwards to brush a kiss on his waiting lips. The other three left, exchanging significant glances.

_It's so nice to have a caring boyfriend_, Ginny thought as she leant into the kiss. _Dean is so lovely to me…_

_Lovely, my arse. _Ginny jerked her head back in shock. _I bet he's only after the one thing, lousy Gryffindor jerk._

_Stay out of my head! _Ginny yelled, outraged.

"Gin, babe, what's wrong?" Dean looked genuinely concerned.

"I have a little headache," the red-head lied again. "Guess I'm not totally recovered after all." She yawned theatrically. "Think I'll take an early night. See you in the morning!"

And with that she ran up the stairs to her dormitory, fuming and cradling her tingling left hand. Dean stared after her, then turned to Seamus, who was watching in amusement from the other side of the common room.

"What did I do?" he asked bewildered. Seamus just laughed.

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Draco chuckled to himself as he strolled into the Slytherin common room. That had put and end to that. Insufferable Gryffindors. What did Ginny think she was playing at, kissing that prat when she knew full well that Draco would know? At least she wouldn't make that mistake again in a hurry. She'd been so surprised! He chuckled again.

The round, green lamps suspended from the rough stone ceiling cast a ghoulish pallor on his already pale face. Several people jumped up from the carved chairs around the fireplace.

"Malfoy!"

Draco smirked, sauntering with exaggerated casualness into the firelight. "Good evening."

"Oh Draco, are you alright?" exclaimed Pansy Parkinson, clutching her hands to her face.

"Of course I am, don't be so foolish," reprimanded Draco shortly.

He seated himself in his customary place, between Crabbe and Goyle. The two goons grinned at him with their usual sycophantic expressions.

Draco ignored them, and brushed aside Pansy, who was flitting around him anxiously. "Aren't you going to say hello, Blaise?"

"Hello, Draco," said the dark boy coldly.

Draco tried to suppress his dismay at his friend's frosty hauteur. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Aren't you going to ask me where I've been?"

Blaise's expression become, if anything, even more aloof. "We all know you've been in the infirmary, Draco. The question is, why."

"Took a knock to the head when I feel down with that Gryffindor," the Malfoy said breezily. "Blasted Healer insisted on keeping me in." He rolled his eyes for effect.

"Draco," Blaise said, his voice slow and deliberate. "Why did you rescue that blood-traitorous wretch?"

Draco forced a laugh. "Oh, Merlin Blaise, you're not going to hold a grudge because we lost the match, are you? I caught her because apparently she cast some kind of weird spell or something. Made me do it. I don't really understand it myself, but Snape explained it to me just now. Besides," he smirked. "it earned us 30 house points in the process."

Zabini's face relaxed. "A spell, you say?"

"Something like that." Draco shrugged. "Who cares, anyway? I'm only sorry I couldn't have let her fall, muggle-loving brat."

Blaise almost smiled. "Good to have you back, my friend. Thinks have been a little _dim_ round here without you." He indicated Crabbe and Goyle.

Draco laughed with real amusement this time. "It's good to see you too, my friend. That Weasley…" he shuddered theatrically. "What have I missed, anyway?"

"Well, Parkinson here caused a bit of a stir at breakfast yesterday," Blaise looked at the girl from the corners of his slanted eyes. "Cornered the Trio, yelling at them about how their little protégé had damaged her poor baby…"he snorted contemptuously. "Silly cow."

"Hey!" protested Pansy. "At least _I _was showing I cared about Draco, unlike some I could mention!"

"Yeah, well, Blaise thought I'd turned all Gryff on him, didn't you, you mistrusting bastard?"

This time Blaise really did smile. "Sorry I doubted you. I shouldn't have; you're a Malfoy after all."

_Yes_, Draco thought with some satisfaction. _I am a Malfoy_.

_Why are you saying that like it's something to be proud of?_

To his credit, the blonde boy did not jump, as Ginny had earlier in Gryffindor Tower, but his expression froze, and Blaise, shrewd as he was, noticed immediately.

"What?"

Draco tried to shrug it off with his usual arrogant demeanour. "Nothing. My head still feels a bit funny, is all. Might go and get something from Snape for it." He rose, gracefully as always, and strode out of the dungeon, past the statue that guaded the Slytherin's den. (It was not customary for Slytherins to say goodbye. Their otherwise elaborate etiquette did not extend that far.)

In the corridor, he leaned his head against the cool stone of the wall.

_Don't interrupt me like that again_. His tone was cold.

_Why not? You interrupted me with Dean!_ Ginny was indignant.

_He's a prat._

_That's a pathetic excuse. And blatantly untrue._

_You evidently have poor taste._

_Well, I can't stop thinking about you, so I'd have to agree with you there._

_About me?_

_My hand…it seems to tingle and ache at the same time._

_Mine too._

_Could we…?_

_If you don't come down, I'm going to march right up into Gryffindor Tower and grab your hand, and I can't see that going down very well._

_Where?_

_Broom cupboard, next to the painting of Marcus and Isolde on the third floor._

_---------------------------------------------------------------------_

Ginny squirmed against Draco. "Why did you pick here? I can't breathe!"

That was a lie, actually she could breathe. But what she was breathing was largely Draco. That spicy, musky smell.

"Because no one will find us here!" snapped Draco. "In Merlin's name, stop squirming!"

Ginny stilled, and although he could see nothing in the gloom, he knew she was glaring at him. A lock of her silky hair tickled his nose. He wriggled away.

"Now look who's squirming!"

Draco leant against the wall. "We can't keep on doing this."

"I know. It's just that it hurts. And I never was any good at the whole pain thing."

Draco took a deep breath, screwing up his face. "I can't hide anything from you, can I weasel?"

Ginny reached out to touch the confusing welter of emotions in his mind. She smiled in satisfaction. "No."

"Well, then, you know." He exhaled slowly. "You know, it doesn't just the relieve the pain, to be with you, to touch you." His long fingers brushed Ginny's smooth cheek. "It feels good. It feels…"

Ginny took pity on him. He was a Slytherin, a Malfoy; he didn't have the vocabulary to describe feelings. "It feels like home," she said. "It feels warm, and comforting, and you feel as though whatever else is happening, it doesn't really matter, because I've got your hand."

"Yes," said Draco. "That's exactly it. But that doesn't mean we can't fight it," he added quickly. "I mean, we're going to have to spend a little time together, for this," he brought up their entwined hands to rest on his chest. "But I want to keep it private. And I don't want to get too involved with you, either."

Ginny felt as though a heavy weight had just appeared over her head, threatening to fall and crush her any second. "I understand."

They stood in silence for a while.

Draco closed his eyes. Ginny smelt like a garden at night. She was wearing perfume; the scent teased and tantalised his nostrils, heady and intoxicating. He wondered, trying not to, what scent she was wearing.

_Gardenia._

Draco cursed his weakness, feeling her smile. He tried to banish the image that came, unbidden, of a flower, white and exotic, unfurling its petals.

Ginny leaned against Draco. His chest was broad and strong. She wished he would put is arms around her, as he had in the hospital wing.

"I don't know how I'm going to make it through the whole night without you," she whispered.

Draco grinned half-heartedly. "I bet that's a sentence you never thought you'd be saying to me."

Ginny laughed quietly. "If Ron could see us now…"

"Well, I guess we have no option but to use those Dreamless Sleep draughts that Madam Pomfrey gave us. I mean, Dumbledore's understanding enough, but Filch won't give a damn, and I really don't want to be caught out after hours. I'm a Prefect!"

_Damn Malfoy pride._

"Yes, well," Draco shook his head. "We really should be getting back."

Ginny pressed against him one last time, and then stood up. "Wouldn't want to be in this blasted closet any longer anyway. Next time, I'm choosing the hidey-hole."

"Next time?"

Next time," repeated Ginny firmly, closing the door.

Marcus of Cornwall peered at them lazily from his portrait, placing a restraining hand around his wife's waist.

Draco and Ginny separated slowly, and even more reluctantly than before.

Ginyy was the first to leave. She took small, rapid steps, determined not to look back. Draco stayed rooted to the spot, watching her leave, first clenched at his side. Her long red plait swayed provocatively from side to side as she moved.

Just before she turned the corner, Ginny stopped, breathing heavily. Impulsively, she turned round and ran back to where her soultwin was standing. Stopping just before him, she stared up into his eyes. "You have silver eyes," she said inanely, wondering why she had returned.

"They're grey, like the walls of the castle."

"No, grey is dreary and unmoving. Your eyes are liquid silver - like the underside of a cloud at dawn."

And before he could scoff at this piece of silliness, she leant up and kissed him soundly on the lips. As she drew back she just caught his look of astonishment before whirling around and running backdown the corridor and round the corner.

Draco shook his head confusedly. _Oh well_, he thought, _out of sight, out of mind, I suppose._

He was getting very good at deceiving himself.

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Love to all of my beautiful reviewers! -hugs-

And for anyone who hasn't reviewed yet - what are you waiting for? Nothing brings on updates quicker than plentiful reviews...


	5. Nightmares

Okay, people. This chapter is a bit weird. But I hope you like it anyway. It's also a couple of days later than promised. But sometimes it can be difficult to juggle A levels, a social life _and_ fan fiction. Something had to give.

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_Night is a stealthy, evil Raven,_

_Wrapt to the eyes in his black wings._

**- from 'Day and Night' by T.B. Aldrich**

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It was black. Blacker than blacker, darker than the deepest night. She could see nothing, nothing at all. Tentatively, she held up a hand in front of her face. She couldn't see it. She wriggled her fingers. Nothing. Was it really there? She brushed her nose with the tips of her fingers. Yes. It was there. But she could see nothing.

She closed her eyes and opened them again. There was no difference; it was black - but no, not even black. It was _nothing_.

Sweating nervously, she reached out her hands, stretching out as far as she could. Her fingers felt nothing. Experimentally, she twirled around on the spot, like a ballerina's pirouette. Her hands met no resistance.

Apprehensive, she took a small step forwards - and then stopped. What was beneath her feet? She pressed down through her heels and splayed her toes. What was it? It didn't feel warm, or cold. It wasn't soft and fuzzy, like carpet, but it didn't exactly feel smooth either. It felt…well, it felt like nothing she had ever felt before.

She crouched down to touch the surface with her fingers. It didn't really feel like a surface either, she decided. It was - nothing.

Ginny shook her head in confusion. Where was she?

She walked forwards, very slowly, arms outstretched. _There was nothing there._

She started to shake with fear. "Hello?" she called out, her voice disjointed and panicked. "Is anyone there?"

Her voice sounded flat and small to her own ears, swallowed by the void.

She began to cry. What is she was the only person here? What if there was nothing here at all?

She started to run, blindly, not caring where she went, not knowing if there was anywhere to run_ to_.

Her had began to ache; it tingled and burned. Ginny was just relieved to _feel _something. It was familiar, though. Why did it ache? Where had she felt it before?

Memory started to flood back.

"Malfoy," she said aloud, just to hear her voice. So how had she got here?

"I was in the dorm, asleep," she said to herself. "Maybe something happened when I was sleeping."

Suddenly she was a ware of a sensation beneath her feet. The floor was growing warm. She knelt down to touch it. Yes…it was warm, an smooth. It felt a little grainy, like wood.

She reached out a little. There was a long groove - and another, and another. It felt like a wooden floor. She smiled in relief. So there was something in this world of nothingness after all.

Ginny straightened up, still smiling, and walked forwards, luxuriating in the feel of warm wood beneath her toes.

Suddenly she stopped, shocked. A breeze played across her face, plucking teasingly at her hair and tantalising her nostrils with the tangy, salty scent of the sea.

Bu then, as suddenly as it had come, it was gone, and she was plunged back into nothingness.

She tried not to cry, but a tear trickled down from the corner of her eye. She missed Draco. Her hand felt hot, and itchy, and it seemed to throb.

_I want Draco,_ she thought miserably. _I want to be back asleep in my bed in Gryffindor Tower._

She sniffed. But - she had been in Gryffindor Tower. She had been asleep.

_Am I dreaming?_

Ginny sat bolt upright in bed, flushed and sweating, her eyes bright as though with a fever.

_It was just a dream? _She pushed her damp red hair out of her eyes, shuddering as she remembered. _That horrible nothingness. _

Her hand was still throbbing. She pushed aside the heavy curtains surrounding her bed, and padded out on bare feet, down the stairs and through the portrait hole. She needed to find Draco.

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Draco was lost. His hair was stiff and matted with ice, his lips blue and frozen. He stumbled forwards blindly, but all he could see was white. White, all around him in huge, icy mounds. Small flakes of burning cold, swirling in front of his face, flung into his eyes and up his nose by the howling wind that tore at his clothes and threatened to drive him into the ground.

He had long since lost all sense of direction. He just kept moving, knowing that it was death to stay still. It was tempting though. Tempting, to just lie down on the hard ground and wait for his fate. To curl into a snowdrift and simply fall into oblivion.

But no. He kept on going, striving forwards with no aim or purpose but simply to survive.

His hand, though, was hot. It smarted, it scalded, it melted the ice when he fell to the floor in exhaustion. It seemed to burn from the inside out, and he wanted to cry with the pain.

But he did not cry out, did not let any tears fall. He was a Malfoy. Malfoys were stronger than that.

The snow piled up on his shoulders and head, dripping with an icy finger down his back. He hugged his arms around himself in a futile effort to keep warm.

Draco could not remember why he was here, or how he had gotten into this wintry wilderness.

_Dear Merlin, my hand_. His thoughts were barely coherent. _Ginny…_

Ginny? He could see her so clearly in his mind's eye, looking up at him suspiciously through a curtain of dazzling red-gold hair, lips pursed with distrust. She seemed to radiate warmth, a warmth he reached out for without really understanding what he was doing…

"Draco!" a harsh voice seemed to call to him from very far away. Someone took hold of his shoulders and shook him roughly. "Draco!"

Blaise glared at him, pushing his silky black hair out of his eyes. "Merlin, will you wake up?"

"What?" Draco blinked in confusion. He was not in a frozen wasteland after all, but in his warm bed, blanketed by a thick velvet counterpane in Slytherin green.

"You were talking in your sleep," said Blaise irritably. "Actually, it was more like yelling. Now shut the hell up and let me get some sleep!"

Draco struggled to collect his thoughts as his friend disappeared behind the hangings of his own four-poster.

His hand throbbed uncomfortably. Without thinking, he got out of bed onto unsteady feet. He had to find Ginny.

-------------------------------------------

They found each other in the Owlery. The open windows at the top let in a bitterly cold wind that made the owls hoot in complaint, and made Draco shudder in recollection.

Ginny leant into Draco's pleasant warmth gratefully, her left hand immediately seeking his right. "I had such a horrible dream," she sighed.

"Did you?" asked Draco, his voice expressionless.

"Yes. I was in nothingness. I was alone." she shuddered. "It was really horrible."

Draco could think of nothing else to say. The last time they had met up like this, in secret, she had kissed, him, and he was as confused as he had ever been. What did she expect him to say? "A least it's over now," he replied, finally. "And a dream is just a dream."

"Is it? I don't know. It seemed very real. I could feel my hand hurting and everything."

"Really? Me too!" Draco was so surprised, the words just slipped out.

"You mean, you had a nightmare too?" Ginny asked curiously. She peered up at him. _Such beautiful eyes! All cloudy and yummy._

"Not a nightmare," he lied, actively shielding her from his thoughts. "A dream."

Ginny frowned. That didn't quite sit right. She decided to let it pass. "I guess it must be something to do with this curse."

"Yeah. Must be." _Such wonderful eyes_, he couldn't help thinking. _Like fire whisky._

Ginny snuggled in closer. She fitted exactly under his chin. "This is nice," she said unthinkingly.

Draco frowned. "I have a Potions test tomorrow," he said shortly. "So I really should get back to bed."

"Back to those nightmares?" Ginny asked slyly, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

"I am a Malfoy. I do not have nightmares," he said coldly.

"I am a Malfoy. I have an embossed pole shoved up my backside," she mimicked his haughty tone.

Draco's eyebrows shot up, and he pulled sharply away - keeping hold of her hand, of course. "How dare you," he said frostily.

"Oh, lighten up," Ginny cuddled into him again. "You know you don't mind really. I can tell, you know. Besides, I don't want to back to the dorm yet. It's so much nicer here with you." She smiled up at him winsomely.

Draco tried not to smile back. He failed.

Ginny laughed delightedly. "You see! You look so much nicer when you smile. Much more human."

Draco didn't really know what to say. He cocked his head slightly. "Do you hear something?"

Ginny listened carefully. Suddenly her eyes widened. "Filch!" she whispered.

"We'd better go," Draco kept his voice carefully low, pulling her over to a pool of shadow.

"Did you hear something, my pretty?" came a reedy voice out of the darkness. "Students out of bed, perchance? We'll catch them this time, my sweet."

The lamp-like eyes of Mrs Norris appeared suddenly, startling the two hidden in the shadow. Draco put his hand over Ginny's mouth, anticipating her gasp.

"I know you're there," called Filch gleefully, his beady eyes scanning the Owlery. "You can't hide from me!"

An owl swooped down and screeched at he caretaker's cat. She yowled plaintively and ran away, her tail bristling in anger.

Filch hissed in frustration. His eyes were no match for those of his feline companion. He tried to peer into the gloom.

Suddenly a tremendous crash sounded, very far away.

Filch whirled around, the tails of his mouldering frock coat billowing out behind him. "Peeves!"

The two hidden students watched him go with considerable relief.

"Mmmf mmf," said Ginny.

"What?" asked Draco abstractedly, his eyes on the receding back of the ageing warden.

"I fmmf fmm mff," said Ginny, as loudly as she dared.

"Oh," Draco said in surprise, taking his hand away from the girl's mouth. "Sorry, I forgot.

Ginny shot him a look. "Evidently."

"Let's go." Draco crept along the walls, silver eyes shining in the lamplight, moving with the cat-like grace of a dancer.

Ginny let him lead, choosing instead to concentrate on the rather pleasing sight of Draco's pyjama-clad behind.

_We'd better not go back to the dormitories just yet_, came Draco's voice in her mind, rich and smooth, like chocolate. _Filch suspects there are students out of bed now. There's a disused classroom on the second floor, not too far from th entrance to Gryffindor Tower. We could wait there awhile._

Ginny was only too happy to comply. _I don't want to be on my own tonight anyway_, she told him. _I can't shake off thoughts of that dream._

They walked in silence; the atmosphere of the castle at night was eerie, oppressive. The corridors were filled with whisperings, as though the portraits were muttering malicious gossip as they passed. Every now and then they caught a glimpse of a pair of blinking eyes, staring hungrily out of the pictures as they passed. In the distance, they could hear a quiet, mournful weeping, as though of a lost child. They guessed it was a ghost, but it was not one either of them had seen before.

The flagstones beneath their feet were cold, and slightly damp. Ginny jumped, like startled rabbit, when she heard what he thought was the swish of cloak, but it was just a suit of armour, moving restlessly behind its concealing curtain.

After what seemed an eternity of skulking in the dark, they came to a door, with the number forty-seven painted in peeling red paint on the front. Draco led Ginny inside, closing the door softly behind them with a sigh of relief.

They sat down at a desk, and Draco pulled a yawning Ginny close to him. She closed her eyes contentedly and let herself drift off into sleep.

Draco looked down at her sleeping face. _Why do I always seem to end up watching you sleep_? He thought amusedly. Not that he minded. Her nose in particular he thought was exquisite, small and slightly upturned, with a very faint dusting of freckles. He stared down at her for a while, unthinking, until the freckles on her nose seemed to be stars in a pale sky, and he fell into oblivion.

"HONK! HONK!" Peeves laughed gleefully to himself as he pulled Draco's nose as hard as he could. He turned a somersault in the air, and twirled his bowtie, grinning smugly. "Look at the ickle students, all out of bed," he cackled. "What are we doing here? CANOODLING!" he yelled at the top of his voice. "CANOODLING IN ROOM FORTY-SEVEN!"

Draco shot out of the chair, yanking Ginny to her feet, so that she almost fell over.

"Whassa matter?" she asked groggily.

"Come on!" he said impatiently, dragging her out of the classroom. This time they ran down the corridor. They came to a junction, and Draco let go of Ginny's hand, pushing her roughly away and paying no heed to the sudden wrenching pain. "You know your way from here?"

Ginny nodded, her face pale.

"Good. Run!" Draco turned and sprinted as fast as he could down to the dungeons, taking the long way round to avoid the moving staircases. He threw himself into bed an yanked the drapes shut, breathing heavily.

_The Fat Lady's gone! _came a panicked voice in his head. _The portrait's empty, Draco, what do I do? I can hear Peeves coming now!_

Draco groaned, putting his head in his hand. _I don't know, _he replied irritably. _It's your problem. _You _deal with it!_

_Draco_! She sounded so shocked, and so hurt, that he could feel himself relenting.

_Go towards the statue of Gideon Moncrieff and turn right_, he said rapidly. _There's a large cupboard under the portrait of Hufflepuff. Hide there!_

_Thank you_, breathed Ginny gratefully. She squeezed into the cupboard, pulling it almost closed behind her.

Peeve's impish giggle floated towards her. "Where's that naughty ickle Gryffindor then?" She could see his orange bow-tie revolving past the door of her cupboard. He blew a raspberry, and carried straight on. "Naughty ickle Gryffindor!" his sing-song voice moved further away.

_He's gone_, she said, moving cautiously out of the cubbyhole. As she rounded the corner, she saw familiar flash of pink silk.

"Where have you been?" she whispered crossly.

The Fat Lady stared at her imperiously. "Where have I been?" she repeated, not bothering to lower her voice. "_I_ am a Hogwarts portrait, free to roam wherever I like. _You_ are a student out of bed!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Adrastea!" she said impatiently. Obediently, the portrait swung up, revealing a common room engulfed by darkness. Ginny picked her way over to the girls' staircase, managing to walk into two chairs and trip over the rug as she did so.

_Thank you for helping me out back there_, she said, as she snuggled back down into bed. _I would have been caught for sure! _

Her voice in his head was soft caressing. He squirmed uncomfortably.

_Ginny…_

_Yes?_

_Go to sleep._

_Yes, Draco. _

Ginny hugged her pillow excitedly. _First names! This _is _an improvement_, she thought contentedly.

_Oh, for pity's sake, try not to think so loudly! _Draco complained. _Some of us have a Potions test in the morning!_

_I'm sorry,_ she replied, properly contrite. _But I feel as though I really know you now, Draco. _She savoured the feel of his name. _Can I call you sweetheart?_

Draco said nothing; Ginny smothered a laugh as she felt his indignation.

_Goodnight then, sweetheart._

Draco felt his consciousness of her fading as she fell asleep. His hand felt as though it was on fire.

_Good night then - sweetheart_, whispered, grinning to himself in the darkness.

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Oh my life, what a rush job! Criticisms are most welcome, it's tempting to re-write it. As always, R&R, I love you!


	6. Collapse

Hello, people! Sorry about the wait. Thanks to my wonderful beta Jenny! Hope you enjoy, usual disclaimer applies.

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_The sweetest flower that blows,_

_I give you as we part._

_For you it is a rose,_

_For me it is my heart._

**- from 'At Parting' by Frederick Peterson**

--------------------------------------------

The huge dome of the Great Hall reflected a vibrant blue sky, marred with only a few wispy white clouds; the hall was flooded with beautiful sunshine. It felt more like July than October, and the students were smiling with a holiday-like cheer - mostly. Ginny Weasley's red hair hung in uncharacteristically untidy tendrils, obscuring her face as she bent over her porridge. Her eyes were drooping gradually closed, with heavy shadows beneath them. She ignored her friends' lively banter and yawned hugely.

Her friend Cassiopeia nudged her in the ribs. "I know someone who would, isn't that right Ginny?" she laughed playfully.

"What?" Ginny blinked.

Their other friend, Colin Creevey, leant over to peer concernedly at the redhead's too-pale face. "Are you all right, Gin? You look a bit peaky."

"I'm fine," Ginny said tiredly, pushing her straggling hair out of her eyes. "I'm just really tired. Couldn't get to sleep last night."

Cass snorted. "Yeah, right." She turned to Colin, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at Ginny. "She left the dorm last night at just gone twelve, I saw her leave. And I didn't hear her come back in either!"

Colin grinned at her. "Cheating on Dean, Gin?" he teased.

Ginny scowled, but her heart gave an uncomfortable leap. She glanced quickly up at the Slytherin table, catching a glimpse of that too-familiar shade of blonde before she buried her head in her porridge again.

"Seriously, Gin, why did you sneak off like that?" asked Cass. "You usually tell me everything." Her tone was reproachful.

"I had a bad dream," Ginny said shortly, deciding that the truth - or at least, part of it - was the best course. "And I needed a walk to clear my head."

Cass looked sceptical.

Colin shook his head, still grinning. "My money's still on another guy," he said happily, helping himself to more toast.

"What was that?" Ginny's elder brother Ron turned around so quickly that he almost fell off the bench. His freckled nose began to redden. "You're cheating on Dean?" His voice rose in outrage.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, Merlin Ron, I thought you didn't like me going out with Dean anyway? And not that it's any of your business, Ron, they were only messing with me. As if I'd cheat!" She glared as he turned back to Harry, looking faintly embarrassed.

"Speak of the devil and so he shall appear," said Cass, looking up.

Dean squeezed himself in beside Ginny, giving her a brief slap on the butt with a grin and stealing a piece of her toast. "Morning babe," he said cheerfully. "Looking a bit rough this morning, Gin."

"Thanks, Dean," she said flatly, wishing, not for the first time, that he was less brash.

Dean laughed, and started to talk across the table to Seamus about the Quidditch leagues.

Ginny dared another quick glance up at the Slytherin table.

Draco caught her eye.

His look was so cold and unyielding that she felt a cold trickle of fear, as though someone was dribbling icy pumpkin juice down her spine. Had he forgotten last night?

_Someone _is _dribbling pumpkin juice down your spine_, came that familiar sardonic voice in her mind, laced with amusement. _It's your witless boyfriend. And don't worry. I'm not _quite _that heartless. But you should try to be a little more subtle. Honestly, you look like a love-sick calf. Pull yourself together!_

And with that he turned to Blaise next to him, gesturing over at the Gryffindor table and laughing, a contemptuous look on his face.

Ginny flushed an ugly red, wriggling in her seat, and turning to her boyfriend.

Dean was laughing so much that tears were leaking out of the corners of his eyes. "Babe, I can't believe you didn't notice!" he hooted.

Ginny hit him angrily. "Prat!"

"What? If you weren't staring off at the Slytherins like a moonstruck puppy you'd have seen me!" he sniggered.

_Thanks for telling me, Draco _sweetheart, she snapped, irate.

_Welcome._

"Come on," she snarled at Cass over her shoulder. "We're going to Potions."

"Yes, Gin," Cassiopeia replied meekly, standing up. She had seen that look on Ginny's face before.

"Oh, come off it, babe, it was just a bit of a laugh," said Dean, still chuckling. He reached out to squeeze her butt again. "We'll meet up later, yeah?"

"When you've decided to stop playing the idiot," she ground out between gritted teeth. "Perhaps."

She stormed out, fuming at the stupidity of boys in general, and Dean and Draco in particular.

They were the first to arrive in Potions. This early in the morning, the dungeons were unpleasantly cool, and faintly damp. Ginny wrinkled her nose at the underlying smell of mould.

As they got out their books and cauldrons, Professor Snape arrived, with a flourish of his black robes. He completely ignored the two girls, busying himself with the many long rolls of parchment littered across his desk.

Cass looked up at him furtively to check he wasn't watching them. "What the hell was that all about, Gin?" she whispered. "What's gotten into you this morning?"

"I'm just tired," she said. "That's all." This was perfectly true; even after she had returned to her bed, she had slept only fitfully. She kept on running Draco's words round her mind. Sweetheart, he had called her. Sweetheart. Then she remembered his tone this morning. Her lower lip trembled treacherously.

"Ginny, don't lie to me," Cass said, turning her friend around to face her. "You look as though you're about to cry! What is it? Is it Dean?"

Ginny cleared her throat; it felt hot and tight, and her words didn't quite seem to come out right. _Damn it, I _won't_ cry! _she told herself fiercely. But what to say to Cass? She couldn't tell the truth.

"Yes," she said, hating herself for the lie. "Yes, it's Dean." She gulped.

Cass looked triumphant. "I knew it! I hate to say I told you so, Gin, but…"

Ginny managed a tiny snort of laughter. "You told me so. I know. I just, oh Merlin, it just doesn't feel as though there's anything there anymore!"

"Talking about Dean again, Gin?" asked Colin teasingly, sliding into a seat beside them.

"When did you get here?" Cass asked, looking around with a surprised expression on her face as the rest of the class filed into the room.

"And how did you guess?" asked Ginny, her voice low.

Colin looked startled. "I was making a joke!" he said, his voice serious for once. "Gin, are you going to break up with him or something?" He looked genuinely surprised.

"I don't know." _Yeah, go on, break up with him,_ came a taunting voice in her mind. Firmly, Ginny closed him out. "I think -"

"If you are all quite finished!" as always, Snape did not need to raise his voice to get the class' attention. His eyes glittered dangerously. "As riveting as your private lives undoubtedly are, I'm sure I do not need to remind you that your OWL examinations take place this academic year…"

This lesson they had to make a rather complex variant on the Deflating Draught, and the students were soon too caught up in their separate projects to talk, much to their Professor's satisfaction.

Colin, always nervous in the presence of the Potions Professor, was frantically chopping his Knotgrass, julienne-style, oblivious to his surroundings. Similarly, Cassiopeia was deeply engrossed in her cauldron; the liquid within, rather than turning the murky purple colour suggested by the textbook, was a shimmering pink, and sending out highly alluring wafts of steam that were making her slightly dizzy.

Undoubtedly, had it not been for these most unfortunate happenings, such devoted companions would have noticed what was happening to their friend.

Ginny was very, very flushed. Although it is quite normal for redheads to blush a peculiarly unbecoming shade of red, her colour was clearly not normal. However, this was not the least of her problems. Her hair was curling at the ends, steaming, and her left hand was trembling uncontrollably.

It burned and shook until the tears that she had been holding back all morning began to fall, hot and fast, blurring her vision. With a particularly violent tremor, she knocked her cauldron to the floor, spilling the thick mauve liquid within.

Within seconds, Snape was at her side. "Detention, Weasley," he said coolly.

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Draco leant against the steamy pane of Greenhouse Four. Merlin, but he hated this subject. Professor Sprout, looking more distasteful than usual with earth streaking her face and robes, was giving a very dull presentation. She herself was rather excited, beaming alternatively at the class and at the odd-looking plant next to her. It was taller than she was, and its midnight-blue leaves seemed to pulse malevolently. Draco was sure it was watching him.

The pale-haired boy squirmed uncomfortably, rubbing his right hand without thinking. Ginny had closed herself off to him after he'd told her to break up with Dean. _Only a bit of friendly advice_, he thought resentfully. _She didn't have to take umbrage like that. Girls! Honestly._

He missed her. He tried to ignore it, but the feeling was overwhelming. His hand felt as if it were encased in an ever-tightening glove of icy pins. He firmly tried to put it out of his mind. Instead, he glanced over at Hannah Abbot, a rather pretty Hufflepuff girl seated next to him.

He stared intently at her until she shivered, and looked over at him. Draco smiled.

The effect was, as usual, devastating. The blonde girl blushed, and looked down shyly, toying flirtatiously with the end of her plaits. Draco's grin broadened. He leaned forward, to whisper in her ear - and felt his hand throb painfully. Wincing, he sat back, looking away from Hannah. Her pink-and-gold prettiness was nothing to Ginny's striking fiery loveliness, anyway.

_Damn her_, he thought irritably, trying to steady his shivering hand. _What's she playing at anyway? _Sweetheart_, I ask you. _Unconsciously, he tossed his head scornfully, tightening his grip on the now burning-cold right hand. _She's with that Gryffindor pillock anyway. And I wouldn't want to go out with a blood-traitor like her. _

The pain was really quite unbearable. He groaned quietly, earning a contemptuous look from Blaise. He tried to smooth his face into its usual implacable mask, but it was useless. The greenhouse seemed to blur out of focus. All he could think about was her, blast it!

-----------------------------------------------­

Ginny glared up at Snape - or at least, she tried to. She couldn't quite seem to concentrate for very long. He had made her write lines - a fairly light punishment, coming from Snape, but she was missing lunch for this. Her stomach growled, and she sighed, pressing her hand against her forehead.

It felt as though she had a fever, but she knew she was not ill. Not really. She felt like she had when she'd taken that potion - she needed Draco. This was the longest they had been apart; it was coming up for eight hours now. She _needed _him, she felt it in every bone of her body. And she was burning up.

"Lines, Miss Weasley," Snape said, black eyes gleaming vindictively. He could see there was something wrong, Ginny knew he could. "And five points from Gryffindor, for tardiness in detention." The complacency on his face was unendurable.

"Could I have a drink of water, please, sir?" she rasped unsteadily. Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears, grating and harsh. "I feel slightly unwell."

Snape regarded her silently for a moment. Perhaps she did look a little flush. Not that that was an unusual state for a Weasley… Finally, he nodded curtly.

Ginny stood up, clutching at the table for support. She took a wavering step forward, her face contorted in pain.

Snape watched, annoyed, as she crumpled to the floor.

---------------------------------------------------

_Ginny! _Draco stood up quickly. Blaise turned to him, an uncharacteristic look of anxiety on his face. Draco's face was ashen - and, for the first time he could remember, terrified.

"What's the matter?"

The pale Slytherin did not stop to answer. He ran, as fast as he could, out of the Great Hall, and down towards the dungeons. He couldn't think, his mind was clouded in fear and pain. He felt that familiar pull, knew that something was wrong. But he could not tell what; her mental touch was gone.

He threw open the door to the classroom, slipping on the smooth stone floor, and fell to his knees. Ginny, _his Ginny_, was on the floor there, limbs twisted strangely, that unruly mane of red hair obscuring her face.

"Sweet Merlin," he gasped, his voice distorted with panic. He pulled her up, gently, and took her hand.

Immediately the iciness in his own hand disappeared; he felt a relief, a completeness so utter that he felt like crying.

Ginny gasped and opened her eyes.

"Draco," she murmured. "I'm sorry."

He could only shake his head. She was sorry? He couldn't express the relief he felt. "I thought you were dead," he said shakily. "Oh Merlin." He closed his eyes. "I thought you were dead."

As they sat there, on the floor, in the middle of the Potions classroom, they were both suddenly aware of another presence in the room. As one, they looked up to a tower of black robes.

"Well, well, well," the voice was deceptively calm. "I think someone has been telling fibs, Mr Malfoy. Miss Weasley. Perhaps you would care to explain?"

--------------------------------------------------

Albus Dumbledore stared disbelievingly at the students before him. Without thinking, he stroked Fawkes' gaudy plumage. "Nothing?" his voice was incredulous. "You are quite sure there is _nothing_ you wish to tell me?"

"Absolutely, Professor," Draco said calmly, tightening his grip on Ginny's hand.

"I just felt a bit dizzy," chimed in Ginny, feigning a casualness she did not feel. "It's probably just a little blip, from the curse. Nothing more."

The Headmaster's smile was wry. "Perhaps you would care to tell me why, in that case, you knew that Miss Weasley was hurt, and exactly where to find her?" he addressed Draco, the friendliness in his voice rapidly disappearing.

Draco shrugged with carefully contrived negligence. "Couldn't really say, Professor. Just a feeling."

Dumbledore sighed. "Why do I have the feeling that neither of you are telling the truth?"

They looked at him blankly. "Oh, go on then, get along with you," he waved at them dismissively, a grumble in his voice. "If you won't help me, there is certainly nothing I can do to help you. On your heads be it."

The pair exchanged nervous glances.

"Sir…?"

"You are _dismissed_, Miss Weasley." That hint of command in his voice, always present, was sharp.

They walked slowly down the winding staircase to the school below. Both of them still felt drained, and as the gargoyle closed behind them, they raised their hands more reluctantly than ever.

In unspoken agreement they moved on down the passageway together, hands entwined.

"This is ridiculous," said Draco. But his voice quavered and broke. Ginny smiled at him.

"I know."

She stopped him and pushed him against the wall. Looking intently into his eyes, she leaned forward and kissed him, very deliberately on the mouth.

As she withdrew, she saw that his eyes were wide with alarm, and she sighed.

"I don't know what to do."

"You don't?" Draco's voice was unusually high-pitched. "You don't know what to do? And I'm supposed to?" He shook his head. "I think you're the most confusing, infuriating -" _bewitching, intoxicating_, his mind added, "creature that ever lived."

Ginny laughed softly. "I'm not confusing, Draco. I like you. I want to spend more time with you - and not just because of this." She squeezed his hand. "Is that so hard to believe? We don't have to be seen together in public," she added quickly, inwardly cursing that Malfoy pride.

"What about the Gryffindor pillock?" Draco kept his voice carefully neutral.

"I don't know," Ginny replied crossly. "Don't talk to me about Dean."

Draco was highly gratified. They entered an empty classroom, filled with dusty board-rubbers and yellowing parchment.

Long moments passed; Draco looked at Ginny appraisingly, from head to toe.

"Do I pass the Malfoy screening-test?" asked Ginny exasperatedly.

For the first time in their sort acquaintance, Ginny saw, to her complete amazement, a grin spread across her soul twin's face.

"With flying colours," he announced, tossing pride to the winds.

Ginny's face was the picture of incredulity. "You mean that? Really?" She shook her head. "No, I don't believe you!"

Draco gently let go of her hand, and cupped her chin in both his hands.

"Let me see if I can persuade you."

Her heart was pounding so hard, she was sure he would hear it. He was so close; she could see every pale eyelash.

Draco suppressed a grin as her breathing became unsteady. He leaned in closer, closing his eyes in anticipation. Ginny trembled at his touch.

"So, what do you think?"

Ginny grinned mischievously.

"I still don't believe you. Perhaps I need just a little more…persuading?"

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As always, please R &R! This chapter should be better than usual because it has been BETA'D! WOO!


	7. L'Amour

Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry for the long wait! I clearly lied about updating once a week! Forgive me, o wonderful readers! I've been doing my A levels and have had no time at all. But now I am back! 

Apologies, because I was in such a rush to get this chapter out that it has not been beta'd; I hope that Jen-Bo will do it for me later and I'll just replace this chapter. I hope it's OK, beause I was in a bit of a whimsical mood when I wrote this, and I'm getting a tad bored of this fic. But anyway. On with the story!

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_Chaos of thought and passion, all confused;_

_Still by humself abused and disabused;_

_Created half to rise, and half to fall;_

_Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all;_

_Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled;_

_The glory, jest and riddle of the world!_

**- from Alexander Pope's 'Essay on Man'**

**-------------------------------------------**

My dearest Draco,

I am concerned for you, my darling. It has come to my attention - our attention, I should say - that there is something amiss at Hogwarts. Why didn't you write to tell me of your Quidditch accident? You know I worry about you. And what is this about involvement with the Weasley girl? I hope you haven't formed an attachment to her. It could ruin all of your chances, and I warn you, Draco, I won't let that happen.

Don't think that just because your father is imprisoned, that he has ceased to care for you. He does, more than ever - as I do. Neither should you think him deaf and blind to the outside world; the security at Azkaban is a joke without the Dementors. Anything you have heard to the contrary is simply the mendacious propaganda of the Ministry, and I hope I have raised you better than to believe it. We are both concerned about you, dearest, and the reports from school have been strange indeed.

Whatever your involvement with the Weasley girl - and really, I hope for your sake that it is nothing - it must end, and quickly. The Dark Lord has plans for you, you know that! With your father incapacitated, we are all relying on you. Severus has his eye on you of course. Go to him if you have any problems, anything at all. And in the name of the Dark Lord, please contact me! Have pity on your poor mother. It cannot harm you to write to me every now and again.

Please reply with alacrity; there are others within our circle who question your loyalty, Draco. Give me the assurance to quell their suspicions. I know in my heart that you will succeed everywhere that your father has failed. Your aunt Bellatrix sends her regards - and her warning.

With all my enduring love,

Your Mother, Narcissa Malfoy

S.W.A.L.K.

Draco stared at the creamy parchment in his hand, emblazoned with the Malfoy crest. Three letters smouldered red in the top corner - B.A.R. He crumpled the letter and threw it angrily into the fireplace.

Moodily sinking back into his chair, he watched as the fire devoured the paper. The edges blackened and smoked, and the wad crumpled into itself until nothing was left but a fine grey ash.

Brows drawn in a deep frown, he contemplated his mother's words. He was too deep in thought to notice when Blaise quietly drew up a chair beside him.

"A letter from your mother?" It was more a statement of fact than a question.

Draco started. "Yes."

His friend smiled coldly. "May I enquire as to the contents?"

Draco shot him a look.

"Ah. I must therefore guess." Less a smile than a baring of white teeth, Blaise's look was predatory, his words damning. "Concerns over the Wesaley _affair_?"

"It is not an affair."

Blaise shrugged. "Call it what you will. It changes nothing."

Draco glared at his friend. "You're right, it doesn't matter, because it's over. It was nothing in the first place."

"You can keep on telling yourself that, my friend, but it doesn't make it true."

Draco said nothing.

"You've been seeing her, haven't you?"

"No!" he fiercely denied it, but could not meet Blaise's eyes.

The dark boy's lip curled in disdain. "After all we said! After all _you _said. So much for the purity of blood. So much for loyalty to the cause!"

Draco jumped out of his seat, his eyes flashing silver fire. "I am loyal to the cause!" he hissed. "Never question my loyalty, Zabini!"

"Then why, Draco?" his softened voice reassured Draco enough to settle himself down again.

"It was that Quidditch accident," he said finally. "I'm afraid I lied to you, Blaise. The spell - curse, really - it sort of linked us. It hurts to be physically apart. But I'm fighting it, I swear!"

"A curse?" Blaise repeated blankly. "What kind of a curse?"

"No one really knows," Draco replied. "Not even Snape. I'm hoping it'll just sort of go away after a while." He cringed, awaiting his friend's reaction.

He was not disappointed. "It's a curse, Draco," Blaise said scornfully. "It's not going to just 'go away'."

Draco looked away. "It seems to be getting easier to ignore."

"Good. That may be all you can hope for. You should not see her again. You know how Narcissa worries about her precious blue-eyed boy…"

Draco laughed half-heartedly.

"And rumour has it Lucius is not best pleased with you as it is."

Draco's head snapped up. "Where did you hear that?"

Again, that snakelike smile. "I have my sources."

"Your mother." Draco's voice was flat.

"Please, Draco. My mother has been interested in little outside her dinner parties for years now, as you well know."

"Snape, then."

"Snape would never discuss you with me." A grudging admission.

"Merlin's beard, then who? I will _not_ be fooled around, Blaise. Tell me what you've heard!"

"You look so much like your father when you get angry."

"I am nothing like my father!"

"Then prove it and calm down! Merlin, Draco, you never used to lise it so quickly. Your mother told me, as it happens."

"Since when have you been a correspondent of my mother's?"

"Since you started hanging round with muggle-lovers and filth." Blaise's eyes were cold.

"I will thank you not to discuss my private life with _anyone_, Zabini," stated Draco, equally cold. "Not even my mother. The Weasley problem is _my_ problem and I will deal with it. In my own time, and on my terms."

"Well, you know your business better than anyone, Draco. And I sincerely hope you're right. For your sake."

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Ginny squirmed in her chair, trying not to meet Dean's eye.

They were seated together near the fire, in the otherwise deserted Gryffindor Common Room.

Ginny felt guilty about last night with Draco. She'd had a horrible dream about it; she'd been stuck in the middle of a path with three branches. In the middle of one branch was Dean, looking cheerful and holding out his hands to her. In the other was Draco, looking at Dean with hateur and at herself with unmistakable lust. In confusion she had run down the third path - only to find herself faced with a sheer cliff, and an unfathomable chasm..

Upon waking, her mind was made up. Dean _had_ to go.

"Look, Dean," she began hesitantly, playing with a lock of her hair. "We need to talk."

"What is it, babe?" he asked, unconcernedly flicking through Quidditch Monthly.

"Idon'tthinkweshouldgooutanymore." The words came out in a rush.

Dean looked blank. Not for the first time, Ginny was annoyed by his apparent gormlessness.

"I don't think we should go out with each other anymore," she repeated in a more normal tone of voice. "It isn't working out for me. I think I need some space." She tried not to giggle at the flabbergasted look on her ex-boyfriend's face.

"What?"

"Do I really need to repeat myself?"

"But babe! We're good together, right? The chemistry, the Quidditch, the…" he trailed off at Ginny's look.

"Babe, maybe we could-"

Ginny shook her head gently. "No, Dean."

"But why, babe?"

"For one thing, you keep on calling me babe," she replied dryly. "But to be honest, I just don't think I need to be in a relationship at the moment. Especially not with _you_."

Unwilling to prolong such an uncomfortable conversation, she rose quickly. "I'm going to go and grab some lunch. Don't come with me."

Dean's mouth hung open as he watched her walk away. Then, to the amusement of a couple of fifth-years huddled in the corner, he dribbled.

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Draco caressed the silky-smooth wood of his beloved Nimbus, smiling a little. The wind whipped at his robes as he forcefully kicked away and soared above the school. For a while he didn't think; he closed his mind to anything but the sheer joy of flight, the feel of the wind ruffling his hair and the winter sun warming his hair.

The Quidditch pitch was empty, and he rolled and pitched wildly, luxuriating in one of his only indulgences.

_What am I going to do about Ginny? _he wondered. Blaise was angry, his parents were angry…Every Slytherin part of him was screaming at him to walk away and never look at her again, except with disgust.

Yet somehow, that was impossible. His grip tightened on the broom as he though of the previous night.

He had kissed her.

He, Draco, Slytherin Prince and only Malfoy heir, had kissed a lowly Weasley. It beggared belief.

So why was he not disgusted, furious with himself? Because really all he felt was smug. She'd wanted him so badly..

Grinning to himself, he crouched down low over his broom and accelerated round the pitch.

---------------------------------------------------------

Harry and Ron were sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, discussing Quidditch, as usual, and cheerfully tossing peas at one another beneath the table.

When Ginny seated herself beside them, humming happily, they were both equally pleased to stop their-pea-fight and turn their attention to her, as a trouser full of peas is not the best sensation in the world.

"Why so cheerful, Gin?" asked Harry, shaking out his left leg. A shower of green hit the floor.

"I just dumped Dean," replied Ginny, tossing her hair behind her shoulder and reaching for a roll.

Ron choked on a mouthful of pumpkin juice.

"Cough up, chicken!" said Harry, thumping him forcefully on the back.

"You broke up with Dean?" spluttered Ron finally, freckled cheeks matching his blazing hair.

"Yes," said Ginny calmly. "Aren't you pleased? I didn't think you liked me going out with Dean."

"Dean's my mate!" replied Ron, outraged. "What did you go and dump him for? Is there someone else?"

Ginny glanced at him, vaguely annoyed. "Maybe," she said nebulously.

"I don't want everyone thinking my little sister is some kind of a whore!" yelled Ron. "You get a new boyfriend every couple of months! What was wrong with Dean?"

"Don't take that tone with me, Ronald," replied his sister icily. "Who I choose to go out with is my business, not yours. And if you're such a fan of Dean Thomas', why did you call him 'the sleaziest sleazeball who ever sleazed' last week?"

Ron purpled. "It was a joke!" His voice increase in volume. Several heads turned to look at them. "I didn't mean for you to go and break up with him, you foolish little girl!"

"Foolish little girl?" Ginny shrieked, her voice raising an octave. "How dare you patronise me like that! You've never even had a girlfriend, how dare you comment on my love life!"

"You should have talked to me first!" bellowed Ron.

"Consult you before breaking up with _my _boyfriend?" Ginny laughed derisively. "Give me some credit, Ron, I can think for myself!"

"Well, it doesn't look like it to me!" spat Ron furiously. "Dean deserves better than you!"

"Better than me!" Ginny was too busy being angry to concentrate on feeling hurt. "Better than your own _sister_?" She clenched her fists, trembling with rage.

Harry put a restraining hand on Ron's shoulder. "Take it easy, mate," he said nervously.

"Oh fine, Harry, take _his _side why don't you!" flared Ginny. "I might have known!" And with that she turned on her heel and stormed out of the all, pausing only to glare contemptuously over her shoulder at the two boys behind her.

------------------------------------------------------------

Draco sensed her before he saw her. At first he was only conscious of a rising ire, completely irrational. His fingers turned white as he clenched the handle of his broomstick before he realised that the rage was not his. It was Ginny's - and she was coming rapidly towards him.

He groaned out loud. The last thing he needed right now was an irate redhead looking for a fight - which she undoubtedly was.

Nevertheless, he circled slowly down to the ground to meet her. Her amber eyes burned with an inner fire and he suppressed a sigh, saying nothing as she climbed onto the broomstick behind him.

He kicked off slightly unsteadily, unused to the extra weight. The broom complained slightly at the passenger, refusing to accelerate into the sky with its usual alacrity.

_What happened?_ he tacitly asked her.

_Ron_, she said, and he was shocked by the venom she poured into the word.

_What did he do_? Draco asked warily, conscious that he could be sticking his head into a beehive with that question.

_Same as always. Trying to interfere with my life_, she growled.

Draco tactfully kept silent.

The wind rushed past them, masking all sounds. Ginny tightened her grip on Draco's waist, burying her head into the soft material of his robes. She breathed deeply, welcoming that now familiar scent of spices and dragon hide.

_I broke up with Dean_, she ventured eventually.

_Did you now_? Draco tried not to sound smug.

_Don't sound so smug, you Slytherin! It wasn't for your sake. You arrogant so and so._

The laughter in her 'voice' took the sting out of the words.

_I've had a pretty rough time of it myself today_, he admitted, idly flying around Gryffindor Tower.

_Really? _She leaned in closer.

_Yeah…I got a letter from my mother. _

Ginny felt all too clearly the confused welter of emotion hidden under that too-casual remark. At once her curiosity was peaked.

_From your mother?_ she queried, trying to keep her tone relaxed. _What was it about_?

_It was about you, actually_.

Ginny was shocked. _Me?_

Draco chuckled mentally. _She wanted to warn me off you._

_Because I'm a Weasley?_

Draco nodded, forgetting she couldn't see him. _Yeah, then Blaise started laying into me as well. Reckon I've got to stop seeing you, or I'm really going to start ruffling some feathers_, he said nonchalantly.

Ginny felt a cold stab of panic. He couldn't leave her now! Not when they were just getting to know each other! Unconsciously, she held him tighter still.

_Much as I'm enjoying this, Weasley, _I CAN'T BREATHE!

Ginny relaxed her grip. _Sorry_, she said sheepishly.

_Don't worry about it. I can't leave you for too long anyway. The curse, remember?_

_Right. The Curse._

_Plus, I'm starting to find you strangely attractive, Weaslette. _

Ginny perked up. _Really?_

Draco couldn't suppress a snort of laughter. _Yeah, because orange hair and freckles are _so _attractive._

_It's _auburn! Yelled Ginny defensively.

_Whatever. It's an OK colour_, replied Draco with feigned indifference.

Ginny flushed with pleasure. That was almost a compliment!

_If you happen to _like_ orange,_ continued Draco.

Ginny hit him.

_Cow._

_Prat. Let me down, I'm cold._

Ginny rubbed her bum. "Your broomstick isn't as comfy as mine," she complained. "My rear end hurts."

"You want me to massage it?" asked Draco enthusiastically.

Ginny sent him a level stare. "Are you sure you want to make that offer?"

"Uh, no, no, maybe not," said Draco hurriedly, looking away.

"Oh good. I _am _glad about that."

He shot a nervous glance over his shoulder as he stowed his Nimbus away. Why were girls in general - and redheads in particular - always so touchy? He shook his head. Maybe she wasn't worth the effort after all.

_I heard that, Draco Malfoy! _cam an indignant voice in his head.

He groaned, putting his head in his hands. _Why me?_

Unseen, in the Quidditch stnds on the other side of the pitch, Colin Creevey crept away, quietly to avoid notice. His hands clutched the camera round his neck tightly, as if it were something very precious, and his eyes were wide with shock.

----------------------------------------------------

Ginny swung her legs idly back and forth under the desk. "I don't know, Harry," she said contemplatively, looking the green-eyed hair before her. "At the end of the day I just thought - I don't even like him any more, why am I going out with him?"

He nodded in agreement. "Sounds like a pretty good reason to break up to me," he said. "Look, Gin, I'm sorry Ron was so hard on you earlier." He moved round to sit beside her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. "But he's been a moody pillock lately. He can't help it, he's worried about Quidditch. Again!"

Ginny put her head on Harry's shoulder with a sigh. "It's nice to know I can depend on _you_ to be normal and nice to me, Harry," she said, dimpling.

Harry smiled down at her, reaching for her hand. "Well, you're like a sister to me Gin, really," he replied.

Neither of them noticed the shadowy figure crouching in the doorway. Romilda Vane fiddled with her dark plait, straining to hear them. She caught a few mumbled words - but she could see with burning clarity their tight embrace, the loving looks…

And as she turned away, her heart hardened with jealousy.

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Thank you, all you lovely people who have read this fic! Please try to find it in your hearts to leave a little review, too...

BTW - SWALK is an old British thing that people used to put on letters; it stands for 'sealed with a loving kiss'. Doesn't get used much anymore. BAR is, quite obviously 'burn after reading'.


	8. Jealousy

Hey people! This is a super-speedy update to make up for that long wait before! Sorry about that. Thanks to my lil bro, Zak, who beta'd this for me! Hugs to you! Thanks to everyone who reviewed - it's the reviews that make me want to carry on! Because I am a bit bored of this and I think sometimes that comes across in the fic, don't you?

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_She that is not jealous is not in love._** - St. Augustine**

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Ginny turned over in her bed. Sighing slightly, she pushed a curl of red hair away from her eyes, scratching her freckled nose. Finally, she opened her eyes, an expression of extreme indignation on her usually sunny face.

"I object," she announced, drowsily petulant, "to waking up before…before," she glanced at her bedside clock, "before seven on a Saturday morning." She rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn. "It should be against the rules."

Heaving herself upright, she yawned again; a huge, gaping yawn that made her jaws ache fairly impressively. Then she stretched, catlike, grumbling under her breath about the unfairness of school, body clocks and the general trauma that was part and parcel of being a teenager.

Stumbling out of her four-poster bed, she yanked the half-drawn drapes fully open, and the room was flooded with sunlight, making it appear, to Ginny's sleepy and disgruntled mind, unreasonably cheerful. She stood for a moment, scowling out at the vast grounds of Hogwarts, for once untouched by the charming, almost quaint beauty of the manicured lawns and carefully immaculate topiary below her.

Listening to the deep, even breathing of her roommates, she withdrew some clean robes from the wooden chest at the foot of hr bed. She could hear Pamela's odd, irregular snores form the other end of the dormitory, and stifled a giggle as she crept over to the bathroom.

As she walked out again half an hour later, dragging a hairbrush through her unruly mane of hair, she glanced at the clock – eight o'clock, and still no one else was awake. Shaking her head at the injustice, she stepped out of the room and made her way down into the Gryffindor common room. It was utterly deserted, save for Crookshanks and the debris from last night.

Wandering over to one of the larger piles, Ginny wondered if she dared try to clean up a little. She even got as far as bending down to pick something up, but the combined smell of something mouldering and the sight of Seamus' purple underpants was so disturbing that she hastily backed away, reaching almost instinctively for her wand.

"Scourgify," she said, but quietly, lest Filch had somehow found a way to enter Gryffindor Tower. As luck would have it, he hadn't, and she wasn't caught. This was fortunate, as her whispered spell was astonishingly ineffectual, and managed to do nothing more than make Seamus' boxers twitch disquietingly.

Making disgruntled noises, she left the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole into the corridor. Sliding down the stairs towards the Great Hall, she hummed to herself, and wondered why the Fat Lady seemed to have got so much smaller since her first year. Shrugging to herself, she decided that she must have gone on a diet.

The thought made her giggle as she walked through the huge doors into the Hall. The tiny gurgle of laughter echoed disconcertingly around the near-empty room, and Ginny looked up, moderately mortified (if there is such a thing), to meet Albus Dumbledore's blue eyes, twinkling amusedly.

Blushing slightly, she looked away, surreptitiously glancing around to see if anyone else had noticed. Her brother and his friends were seated at the Gryffindor table. Ginny's blush intensified as she remembered their row yesterday. He _had_ been out of order, but still - she shouldn't have blown up like she had.

Steeling herself, she slipped onto the bench next to him.

"Morning, Ron," she said calmly.

He looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Calmed down then, have we?"

She forced down the automatic surge of anger. "Look, Ron, I'm sorry. I know you're only looking out for me. My temper just got the better of me." She shrugged apologetically.

Ron was surprised. "That's alright," he said charitably. "I shouldn't try to interfere." He made a face. "But that's what big brothers do, I'm afraid. Can't do anything about it. It's in the job description."

His sister laughed good-naturedly. "Friends again?"

"Of course." Ron turned back to his plate, to shovel in his breakfast with renewed vigour.

Ginny smiled in satisfaction and turned to her left.

"Morning, Colin!" she said brightly, helping herself to toast. "I didn't see you come in."

He looked at her with an oddly intense expression. "Why didn't you tell Cass and me that you broke up with Dean?" he asked reproachfully.

"What-? Oh, that," Ginny waved it aside dismissively. "I just forgot. It wasn't a big deal. You knew I was having problems."

"Yeah, but we never though…" abruptly he changed tack. "And there's another thing," he added grimly. "Where did you go after dinner last night?"

Ginny blushed. "Erm…well, you see, I had some…work to do, yeah, work. For Snape. In the library."

She buried her scarlet face in a goblet of pumpkin juice.

"No you weren't," contradicted Colin flatly. "I know, because Cass was in there all night, in detention for Sinistra. Why are you lying to me, Gin? I thought we were friends. We've never had secrets form each other before." He looked so injured, that Ginny _did_ start to feel little guilty. But not so much she was going to tell him the truth.

"Well, I needed some alone time," she improvised quickly. "After the whole Dean thing, you know…and I had a bit of a talk with Harry as well."

It was kind of the truth. Kind of.

"Ginny, I know where you were last night," he told her quietly.

Ginny was annoyed. "Well, if you knew, why did you ask me?"

"I wanted you to tell me of your own volition," he said sadly. "Obviously you don't trust me enough!"

Ginny was chagrined. "Oh, Col, don't think that!" she exclaimed unhappily, placing her hand on his arm. "I do trust you." She hesitated. "How do you know, anyway?"

"I was testing out my new camera on the Quidditch pitch," he told her with an expressive glance. "I didn't expect such fascinating material!"

His red-headed friend tensed as he handed her a photograph; Ginny and Draco zoomed in and out of the picture, huddled close together, her hair snapping in the wind.

"Oh Colin!" she gasped, horrified. "Why did you take this? You haven't shown anybody else, have you?" He tone was low and urgent.

"Of course not!" Colin looked offended at the insinuation. "But Gin, what were you doing with Malfoy of all people?"

Ginny was saved from answering as her brother leaned over. "What's that you've got there, mate?" he asked Colin jovially. "A picture of Gin?"

And before either could react, he had neatly swiped the photograph from Colin's hand, a broad grin on his face. The grin faded as he took in the contents.

Ginny felt a heavy weight settle in the bottom of her stomach

_Draco_!

_There's no need to scream at me_, came that lazy voice in her mind. _What's the problem?_

_Colin took a picture of us flying - and now Ron's gotten hold of it!_

_Your problem. Deal with it_, the Slytherin said succinctly.

_But Draco…_

_I don't want to hear it, Ginny. Just stop him from spreading it, in Merlin's name._

Fortunately enough, Ron seemed to be too shocked to do anything but still there, frozen, staring at the photograph.

"Look, Ron, I can explain," Ginny sad hastily.

"I bet you bloody well can!" Ron's voice was hoarse.

"Malfoy and me were having this argument about whose broom was better, and he said that his was and I said to prove it and then he said he wouldn't trust me with his broom," she told him, as fast as she could. "So then he took me flying. But only for a couple of minutes! I wouldn't spend a minute longer with that slimy Slytherin than I needed to, you know that!" Her brown eyes pleaded for forgiveness.

Ron thrust the photograph back at Ginny with a look of disgust on his face. "Burn it," he said flatly. "I believe you Gin, but don't even think about doing it again. You know what Malfoy's like."

"Of course!" exclaimed Ginny. Her relief was palpable. "Anything you say, Ron!"

Colin looked at her significantly. "Right, well, me and Colin have loads of work to do, so see you later!" she said with false brightness.

"What's going on, Gin?" demanded Colin as soon as they were out of earshot. "That was a load of bollocks and you know it!"

"Look, Col, I really and honestly intend to explain _everything _to you and Cass later," she said desperately, pulling away from him. "But I have something very important to do right now!" She ran down the hall away from him, towards Gryffindor tower.

That was the first lie she had told that day; she didn't really have anything important to do - unless sitting in the shower and crying counts as important.

---------------------------------------------------

Blaise glared at Draco through slitted eyes across the Slytherin table. Draco tried to ignore it, but soon grew uncomfortable under such intense scrutiny.

"What?" he demanded finally.

"Have you nothing to say to me?"

Draco was perplexed. "What about?"

"I take it you remember our conversation yesterday."

"My memory has yet to fail me," the blonde boy replied coldly.

"Then _why_, may I ask," said Blaise acidly. "Were you out flying with that _filth_," his voice dropped so low that Draco had to strain to hear him, "last night? After everything we said?"

Draco was too shocked to pretend. "How do you know that?" he asked in honest surprise.

Blaise's lips twisted in a cruel smile as he caught his friend unguarded. "I caught a Gryff in the corridor this morning with a photo."

Before Draco could reply, winced as Ginny screamed _Draco_!

_There's no need to scream at me_, he said, affronted. _What's the problem_?

_Colin took a picture of us flying - and now Ron's gotten hold of it!_

Well, that explained Blaise's foul mood, at any rate.

_Your problem_. _Deal with it_. He told her firmly, concentrating on Blaise, who was looking angrier by the minute.

_But Draco…_

_I don't want to hear it, Ginny. Just stop him from spreading it, in Merlin's name._

He knew that he would regret being so curt with her later, but he had more pressing problems.

"It was a curse thing, alright Blaise?" he lied defensively, looking around to check that no one was listening.

"Don't lie to me, Draco," said Blaise contemptuously. "You've obviously fallen for her."

"Don't be ridiculous!" scoffed Draco, his heart beating uncomfortably fast.

Blaise's dark eyes smouldered. "Let's continue this outside." His voice was cold.

The two walked together along the corridors of the castle, close to each other but not touching. Their postures were stiff, their shoulders tense, and on the face of each was a brooding malice. Other students scampered away from them apprehensively, for they made an impressive duo; one dark as the other was fair, both tall and handsome and radiating a confidence that could only be Slytherin in origin.

In tacit agreement they made their way to a favourite spot in the courtyard; a secluded bench almost completely hidden by two large stone pillars.

The moment he deemed it safe, Blaise wheeled around to face his friend; his dark face contorted with rage. "What in blazes do you think you're doing?" he demanded. "Draco, you're my friend, and a true one, but I won't stand for this. I won't! Stop lying to me and tell me what the hell is going on!"

"Don't take that tone with me, Blaise Zabini!" hissed the blonde haired boy, his upper lip curling in disdain. "For your information, _yes_, I have been spending time with Weasley - with _Ginny_ - and I will continue to do so!" He stopped, breathing heavily.

Blaise's look changed from mere anger to incredulity. "Are you insane?" he asked, his voice unusually high-pitched. "You mean to say you're willingly consorting with muggle-loving, blood-traitorous scum like that?"

Draco took a deep breath. "Yes," he said calmly. "I haven't been lying to you, Blaise, not really. There was - is - a curse. And it means that we have to have physical contact regularly , or we get ill. But that's not the only reason I've been spending time with her." He raised his head defiantly. "I like her, Blaise."

The dark boy shook his head in disgust. "How can you be so stupid? You must know what this means. You're going to be angering some very powerful people, you know. And I for one won't stand for it! How can I respect you as my friend, my equal -" He trailed off, overcome with emotion.

"For pity's sake, Blaise, grow up," snapped Draco. "In this day and age, blood is nothing. And she is a pure-blood. It's a friendship, pure and simple. And one that I will continue," he said with heavy emphasis. "I will not be dictated to, Blaise. Not by you or by anyone else."

"Anyone else?" repeated Blaise. "You _are_ mad as well as stupid! Your mother, Lucius, the Dark Lord himself! No good can come of this! She could be killed - not that I care one way or another," he added with a shrug. "But if you really have grown attached to her," and he couldn't keep the contempt from his voice, "then I'd have thought you'd take that into consideration."

Draco looked away. "I will not be dictated to," he repeated, a pink flush spreading across his usually pale cheeks.

Blaise shrugged again. "Do as you will. You always do. But don't come running back to me when you get your come-uppance." His dark gaze fell upon his friend. "Which you undoubtedly will."

He strode away without further preamble, leaving Draco leaning heavily against the pillar, unable to meet his eyes.

He stood there for some time, eyes closed, breathing heavily.

_Ginny_? He ventured tentatively. He needed the comfort she would bring.

_Oh, so you're deigning to talk to me now, are you_? She shot back venomously.

For a moment Draco was completely baffled - stung. _Wha-_ _oh. _Perhaps he _had_ been a little terse earlier.

_That's right_, Ginny told him. _You were _rude _to me, Draco Malfoy_.

There was silence for while.

_You don't have to worry about the photograph, anyway_, she told him unhappily. _I dealt with it._

_No, you didn't, _corrected Draco bitterly. _Blaise saw._

_Well that wasn't my fault! I've got it now, and I certainly haven't shown it to anyone._

_It doesn't matter. The damage has been done already. Get down here, Gin._

_Anything your lordship commands. _

Her tone was bitter, and Draco wondered what he'd done to deserve it. She'd certainly been moody lately. And what were _her_ problems to his? All she had to deal with was a sulky brother. He might lose his boyhood friend over this stupid bonding.

He brooded on this as he took the steps, two at a time, to meet Ginny just outside the entrance to the east wing. One look at her face stopped him in his tracks.

"You've been crying!" he exclaimed, surprised.

"You think?" she snapped back tiredly. Turning away, she put blinked heavily. She would not cry in front of him.

"What on earth for?"

"Draco Malfoy, that is probably the most stupid thing you've ever said! And that's saying something," she added snidely.

Draco's spine stiffened automatically. How dared she! "I don't see what you have to cry about," he told her coldly. "I had hoped you might have better control over you emotions, Weasley."

Ginny's eyes snapped with anger. "How can you say that to me, you hard-hearted Slytherin snake! You're the one whose made me cry, for being such a jerk! Because of you I've had to hide things from my best friends, sneak around the castle, and I'm at odds with my favourite brother! The least I could have hoped for was a little comfort from you to make it worth my while!"

"You foolish girl," he snapped, incensed. "You have no idea of the sacrifices I'm making for you! My best friend despises me because of you! I am guilty of the most terrible filial infidelity, and-" he broke of, silver eyes hard and cold, like the walls of a castle under siege. "And I really don't think you're worth it."

Ginny's face paled; he could see each individual freckle starkly against the pallor. The look of utter betrayal in her eyes was almost enough to break his resolve. But no; he would remain firm. He had enjoyed spending time with her, but she could be nothing more to him; not when she treated him like this. He would go back to Blaise, confess his stupidity, plead forgiveness. Well, maybe not plead. Malfoys do not plead.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he barely noticed when she gave a small cry, and fled away from him. He had to find Blaise.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Ginny huddled into the stone wall, drawing her cloak around her protectively. Now that she was alone, she let the tears fall freely, hot and salty as they slid down her cheeks and into the corners of her mouth.

Nearby was the Owlery; over the parapet she could see the birds swooping in and out, their flight patterns jerky in the force of the strong northern wind.

How could Draco - how could _Malfoy_ - be so insensitive? They'd been getting on so well, she'd started to think that maybe - maybe -

She choked on a sob.

"What's the matter, Ginny?" came a honeyed voice from behind her. Ginny turned around, amazed to see someone here, in her little hidey hole at the top of the castle.

Romilda vane advanced towards her, a sickly smile pasted on her face. One fist clenched the thick black plait swung over her left shoulder. "Why are you crying, dear?" she asked sympathetically.

Ginny was surprised; she hadn't put Romilda down as the compassionate type. She smiled gratefully up at the girl. At least someone was being nice to her today!

"Don't worry," she hiccupped. "It's just boy trouble." She managed a watery half-smile.

Romilda came further towards her, smile widening as she tugged fiercely on her braid.

"I heard you dumped Dean," she said conversationally. "Was that because Harry asked you out?"

Something in her tone made Ginny start. "No, Harry and I are just friends," she said cautiously.

Romilda laughed. "Oh, come on , Ginny, I won't tell anyone!" She leaned close with a conspirational whisper. Ginny stood up, feeling slightly apprehensive.

"You can tell me," continued Romilda sweetly. "I think you'd make a cute couple…he's the most wanted boy in school - and you're…" She trailed off, an Ginny thought she saw a hint of malice in that too-wide smile. "You're Ginny Weasley, aren't you?"

Ginny wished desperately to escape, but Romilda was blocking her path, edging her closer and closer to the edge of the parapet. "I'm not going out with Harry!" she protested. "I don't even like him anymore."

"Don't lie to me!" hissed the dark-haired girl, her face suddenly contorting, ugly with anger. "You little slut! I bet he's not the only one! You could have anyone you wanted, perfect, pretty little Ginny! I bet you really don't like him! You just wanted him to get one over on the rest of us! Because you couldn't stand the thought that he might like someone else! Someone like me!" Her voice rose hysterically.

"No, no, it's not true!" gasped Ginny, really frightened now. "Romilda, let me past!"

The dark-haired girl pulled on her braid sharply, laughing. "Oh no, I don't think so," she whispered wickedly. Her hands came up in front of her, and she reached for Ginny.

"DRACO!"

-------------------------------------------

_DRACO!_ The scream rang in his mind as clearly as a bell, and he felt her panic. "Ginny!" he yelled scrambling to his feet.

His mind was a blur. He couldn't think. He _had_ no thoughts but to find her. In his mind's eye he saw her, falling, falling, as he had when he first caught her… "Accio Nimbus!" he pelted into a first-floor classroom, and threw up the sash of the biggest window, his fingers fumbling and clumsy in their haste. At last the window was up; he launched himself out of the window, broomstick in hand.

The wind roared in his ears as he plummeted several feet towards the ground, before he wrestled the Nimbus under him and forced it, as he had never forced it before, to accelerate up and towards the easternmost tower.

--------------------------------------------

Snape watched with mild irritation as his favourite student launched himself out of his chair with an inarticulate cry, and launched out of the dungeons. "Hormones," he muttered, shaking his head sadly.

-------------------------------------------

Ginny's hoarse scream was whipped away by the hungry wind. She was going to die, she knew it. She could _feel_ the ground rushing towards her. She closed her eyes…

And opened them in astonishment as she felt a strong pair of arms wrench her out of the air and into a rib-breaking embrace.

"Don't you ever," said Draco, his voice shaking with fury. "_Ever_ do that to me again."

She could only stare at him, wide-eyed and weak with astonishment and fear.

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Well, what do you think?

Review review review!


	9. Christmas

Hello again! Sorry about the huge delay. I would make excuses, but they'd be pretty pathetic, so I won't. To make up for the lateness, this chapter is super-long, more than double the length of any other! Enjoy! (usual disclaimer applies)

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_Let's dance and sing and make good cheer, for Christmas comes but once a year! _**- G. MacFarren**

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Ginny did not know what had happened to the winter term. It had flown past her in a blur of tears and vexation. Her hand hurt continually nowadays, but that was nothing to the pain in her chest. It was a tightness that only evaporated when she saw Draco, but that was less and less often these days. Since the incident with Romilda Vane he had been cold and withdrawn, refusing to speak to her, or even to see her except when it became an absolute necessity.

She didn't really understand what had gone wrong. They had become so close before; she had even fostered a tiny, glowing flame of hope that he might ask her to Hogsmeade one weekend; especially after he had kissed her. And then - everything had collapsed.

She was trying to behave as normal, for the sake of her friends (and most especially her over-protective brother), but she knew she was not fooling anyone. She was miserable and it seemed the whole world knew it. What made it worse was seeing Draco, laughing with that damnable Zabini boy at the Slytherin table, or else flirting with that absolute cow Pansy Parkinson, and all in all acting as though he hadn't a care in the world.

Ginny gritted her teeth angrily, left palm stinging unbearably. At first she had tried to talk to him, but he had stubbornly closed his mind to her, refusing even the most minimal contact. He must know how much he was hurting her! How could he be so cruel?

He was even refusing to meet up for…contact…anymore, leaving it longer and longer until she felt dizzy with the need. Cass had told her to go to Dumbledore, that it wasn't fair for Draco to do this to her. But she had refused, unwilling to show her weakness to the Headmaster.

Besides, secretly, in her heart of hearts, she still believed that some day Draco would relent, that he would tell her exactly why he had been so aloof and everything would be like it was before - and even better.

She would invite him home for Christmas, and he would come and be welcomed into her family. She could see them in her mind's eye, snuggled on the hearthrug together in front of a blazing fire in the Burrow, laughing happily at Fred and George's jokes…

Well, perhaps not quite that far. Somehow, Ginny couldn't imagine Draco taking to life at the Burrow quite that happily. Still…it wasn't too much to hope for that they would regain their old familiarity. It was probably something to do with his parents, or Blaise, she thought. Before the accident on the parapet they had argued over that.

And now she stood in her empty dormitory, packing for the Christmas holidays. For two whole weeks without him. The thought made her faint with fear, and her hand prickled uncomfortably. Disconsolately, she folded a nightdress and placed it in her trunk.

Her lower lip trembled. She _couldn't _leave without knowing. She just couldn't bear it, not for such a long time.

_Draco? _

Silence.

A tear slid down her cheek. She didn't understand. She'd always thought of him as cold and unfeeling - until the accident. But now he seemed to be just what everyone else thought he was; nothing more than a malevolent son of a Death eater.

_Oh for pity's sake_, came an irritated voice in her mind. _Will you stop feeling so bloody sorry for yourself? It's driving me mad!_

_Well, it's your fault,_ replied Ginny, stung.

Draco heaved a long-suffering sigh. _Meet me in the library in ten minutes_, he told her.

_What?_ said Ginny, surprised. _But I thought -_

_Look, don't argue_, snapped Draco. _Just be there._

And that was that, was it? Thought Ginny angrily. He thought he could just high-handedly order her around, that she would come at his beck and call, no matter how he treated her? Well, she would show him.

-----------------------------------------------------

Draco leant back tiredly into the worn leather of the library chair. He was always tired lately; tired and achy. He had practiced Quidditch for an hour before breakfast this morning and then for three hours after dinner. His team mates had commended him for his enthusiasm, but really he couldn't care less about the game these days, although the extra practice couldn't be doing him any harm.

No, he needed to fly, to throw himself into the game wholeheartedly. He much preferred to focus on the physical side of things, to concentrate on the feel of his broom coming alive beneath him, on the stretch and pull of muscles as he strived to catch the elusive Snitch. He retired to bed each night so tired that he slept as soon as his head hit the pillow.

And that was what he wanted. If he had no time to think, he had no time to brood. His hand itched, and he scratched it irritably.

He'd been a fool, pushing Ginny away like he had been. He knew that she'd been feeling ill over it; he could feel it too. But he didn't really want to risk another row with Blaise. And at least his mother was happier now.

Besides…when he's heard that terrible cry as that Vane girl pushed her over the parapet…he shuddered.

He'd been frightened. He could admit it in the silence of his own mind, though he would never say it out loud.

As he saw her falling through the air, he'd felt a cold rush of absolute fear. He'd been so shaken that after he'd deposited her safely on the ground, he'd retreated to the Slytherin prefect's bathroom and stood under an icy cold jet until he felt numb all over.

He didn't _want_ this. He didn't want to be so scared for someone else. He didn't want to be miserable when he wasn't around her and happy when he was with her. He didn't want to be in love, damn it.

He had wrestled with himself for some time over that. But there was no denying it; if this wasn't love, he didn't know what was. And it scared him. So he'd been avoiding her, for over a month now. But the thought of two entire weeks without even the prospect of seeing her across the hall at mealtimes, of brushing her hand in the corridors…it was too much.

So when he'd felt her begin to cry earlier, he had capitulated; he had to.

Still, when he caught a flash of her red hair as she walked into the library, it sent a thrill of apprehension down his spine.

Ginny seated herself across from him with a frown, and Draco saw with a pang that her eyes were red-lined; she had been crying.

"So you're condescending to speak to me now, are you?" she hissed.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I might have expected you'd be like this."

"Like _what_?"

"Like this! Look, this isn't easy for me -"

Ginny cut him off. "Not easy for you? What do you mean, not easy for you? Harder than _ignoring _me?" her voice rose.

Madam Pince swooped down on them. "Out! Out!" she hissed furiously. "How dare you shout in my library!"

Draco leant back against the wall outside the library, arms folded. "Now see what you've done!"

Ginny's chest rose and fell with her heavy breathing. With an inarticulate cry of rage, she whirled around and stormed down the corridor.

Draco rolled his eyes again. "Ginny!" he called after her.

Steadfastly ignoring his cries, his quarry sped up, intending to closet herself in the protective warmth off Gryffindor tower, away from his taunting presence.

"Ginny, in Merlin's name, wait!"

He sprinted after her onto a staircase, but the minute he stepped foot on it, it began to move, slowly rumbling round to attach itself to another door.

Ginny stumbled, but picked herself up and raced to the top, hesitating briefly at the sight of an unfamiliar corridor.

"Ginny _wait_!" perhaps she heard the note of urgency in his voice, or perhaps she was simply tired from running up the stairs, but whatever the reason, he was thankful when she stopped and turned around to glare at him.

"You are a hateful, selfish boy, Draco Malfoy," she told him, her voice shaking with emotion. "And you clearly have no regard for me! Why should I listen to anything you have to say?"

Draco winced at the anger behind her words. He pushed his silver hair away from his face. "Because ..." he hesitated. "Because I think I love you."

Ginny felt herself tremble; Draco watched as her face crumpled and she seemed to wilt against the wall.

"What?"

"You heard me. Don't make me say it again!" he snapped angrily.

Ginny's lower lip trembled for the second time that day.

Draco buried his face in his hands. "Merlin, _don't_ start crying again…"

"If you love me, why have you been so mean to me?" demanded Ginny childishly.

Draco took her left hand gently in his. The relief dried Ginny's eyes, and he knew that she would soften towards him.

"Why have you been ignoring me?" she asked softly. "If you love me…"

"I'm a fool, Ginny" he told her bluntly, drawing her into his arms. "I've been paying too much attention to the opinions of others. Blaise - and my mother - and others. But it doesn't matter. They don't matter. I am the only person who has the right to decide what I want to do, and I want this."

He nuzzled the top of her head.

Ginny pulled back, startled. "That's it? You were worried about what they thought of me?" The faintest hint of scorn underlay the words.

Draco frowned. "I had to have time to decide what was important to me," he said finally. "I'm sorry I hurt you, but I've spent my life trying to appease these people. Some habits are hard to break."

"When you caught me after Romilda pushed me…" Ginny hesitated, swallowing hard. "You were so angry. You - you frightened me, Draco."

"I wasn't angry at you, Ginny," Draco hugged her tightly. "I was -"

He stopped for a moment, wondering how much he could tell her. Malfoys never admitted weakness. But that was what had got him into this mess in the first place.

"I was angry…because I was afraid."

Ginny drew back, looking with astonishment into those battered-silver eyes.

"I was afraid for you," he finished heavily. "Afraid I was going to lose you."

"Oh, Draco," said Ginny softly, squeezing his hand. "I never thought-" she broke off. "You always seem so stern, so cold."

"Yeah, well, Malfoys aren't exactly encouraged to show their emotions. I'm not sure we're even supposed to have them."

Ginny touched his face wonderingly. "Why have you never said these things to me before?"

"Why do you think?"

"Then why tell me now? After all of this?"

"The Hogwarts Express will pull into Hogsmeade in four hours," he told her. "To take us both away from the castle. Away from each other. Can you imagine two entire weeks without this?" he held up their interlinked hands.

Ginny looked down. "I have been worrying about that," she confessed.

"I couldn't bear the idea of you moping around over Christmas because of me," he said, smiling wryly. "You do have a habit of sulking when you think you've been hard done by."

"I do not!" Ginny cried indignantly.

Draco looked pointedly at her. "Ginny, why did you run away from me just now?"

She turned away from him, pouting. "That was different. You've been avoiding me for more than a month. How would you react if I blanked you for six weeks and then expected you to just fall into my arms without even an attempt at explanation?"

Draco sighed. "I behaved badly, Ginny. I think we've established that."

"Well…how do you intend to make it up to me then?" Ginny tried to fold her arms, then realised she was still holding Draco's hand, and dropped them, flustered.

"Ginny," said Draco, his face serious. "Do you _want _me to kiss you?"

Ginny shot him a reproachful look. "Of _course_ I do, you ninny!"

"Well, shut up then."

Ginny snuggled into his arms with a contented sigh. "This is _much_ better," she said. "Now that you've decided to stop being such an idiot, life will be much easier."

"For you, maybe," Draco told her, his expression slightly stern. "I've just about managed to get back into Blaise's good books, and convince my mother that I'm not having some kind of Weasley-centric moral breakdown. Now I'm back to square one!"

Ginny managed to look vaguely guilty. "I'm sorry," she said contritely. "If it's going to be that much trouble, we can keep it a secret."

Draco shook his head. "There'd be no point. Pitchers have ears," he quoted, looking askance at the portrait of a woman clutching a silver carafe. She raised her eyebrows at him in admonishment and stalked out of the frame.

"You can't think that the portraits would rat on you!" laughed Ginny.

"Not just the portraits," replied Draco gravely. "I wouldn't trust anything in this castle. Except for you, of course," he added as a kind of afterthought.

"Draco, that's just plain paranoia. There's no reason anyone should know about us, if we meet in secret."

"Well then, how did they find out before? My mother is in London and my father is in Azkaban, but still they knew when we were meeting up before."

Ginny shifted uncomfortably in Draco's embrace. "Ugh. That's horrible - now I feel like I'm being watched!"

"Now who's paranoid?" he laughed at her. She frowned up at him petulantly, opening her mouth to protest, but he caught it instead in a kiss of mastery.

Ginny pulled back, wide-eyed and breathless. "That was _so_ worth waiting for," she sighed contentedly.

Draco curled her possessively back towards him, a wicked gleam in his eye. "You're very easy to please."

She arched an eyebrow at him speculatively. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

Draco chuckled. "Not yet…"

-----------------------------------------

Exactly four hours later, Ginny Weasley stood on the snow-covered platform of Hogsmeade station, trunk by her feet and a smug smile playing about her bruised lips. Hermione hurried up to her, her face all but hidden by a large woollen muffler.

"Hi Ginny!" she greeted the younger girl brightly.

The red-head made no reply, but continued to smile in that dreamy, self-satisfied way.

"Ginny? Hello?" Hermione waved a gloved hand in front of her friend's face. "Is anybody at home?"

Ginny suddenly snapped to attention. "What? Oh. Hi, Hermione."

"What's the matter with you?"

"Oh, nothing," Ginny replied, turning away to watch for the train.

"Yes there is," Hermione tossed her bushy head in annoyance, peering at Ginny suspiciously. "You look funny…" her voice trailed off.

The titian girl looked down and tried - failed - not to blush.

"Ginny Weasley," Hermione said, grinning at her. "You look like a girl who's been thoroughly kissed!"

Ginny flushed to the roots of her red hair. "Don't be ridiculous," she replied stiffly.

Hermione laughed gleefully. "You can't fool me, Gin, I _know_! But who's the lucky feller?"

"No one, alright!" exclaimed Ginny somewhat crossly.

Hermione looked a little hurt. "I thought we didn't have any secrets from each other, Gin?"

Ginny sent her a beseeching look. "I'll tell you after the hols, 'Mione, I promise. But it's a long story and I don't want you brooding over it for the whole fortnight."

Her friend raised her brows in surprise. "You know you can tell me anything, Ginny. But I'll wait, if you really won't tell me now."

"Thank you," Ginny said, gratefully squeezing the older girl's hand.

On the train, Ginny pressed her head against the icy cold window, breathing steam and drawing patterns on the glass, staring vaguely into nowhere, her mind firmly fixed on a certain someone just carriages away.

Harry, Hermione and Ron were playing cards, and the carriage was filled with the sounds of small explosions and the reproachful clucking of Hermione's tongue.

_Draco?_ she queried softly, possessively. _What are you doing?_

_The same thing I was doing three minutes ago, _snapped Draco. _You'd better not do this for the next two weeks, you'll drive me mad._

_I was just checking! _exclaimed Ginny, feeling slightly injured. _Is Parkinson still trying to flirt?_

_As ever._

Ginny tried to repress the swift feeling of vindication that swept through her at his chagrined tone.

_Don't talk to me anymore,_ he commanded sternly. _Blaise is looking at me strangely._

"Gin, are you OK?" Harry asked suddenly. "You looked a bit funny there for a second."

Ginny blushed, out of habit. "I'm fine," she said quickly. "Just…can't wait to get home!"

Nothing could be further from the truth, but Harry simply nodded and turned back to his game. Ginny smiled in secret pleasure and dreamed of Draco.

----------------------------------------------------

Narcissa Malfoy stood alone at platform nine and three quarters. Although the station was crowded with excited children and over-anxious families, shouting and laughing and jostling for room, the aristocratic woman seemed utterly alone. No other parents approached her; few even gave her a glance. Close by, a devastatingly beautiful black woman stood, looking haughtily down her nose at all and sundry as they dared to pass her.

Draco and Blaise stepped out of their carriage and made their way over to their respective parents without saying a word. Draco's eyes were drawn irresistibly to the Weasley clan; unmistakable with their abundance of red hair and riotous mirth. His stomach contracted painfully as he caught sight of a familiar long red plait. He forced his gaze away, to meet the steely eyes of his mother.

"Come along, Draco," she said crisply.

Ginny, he thought bitterly, would never greet him like that. He imagined, for a while, meeting her again for the first time after the holidays. She would give a low, glad little cry and fling her arms around his neck, nuzzling him affectionately with her cold nose. _She_ would be happy to see him.

What a welcome! And from his mother!

At Malfoy manor, Draco found life much the same as ever. His mother disappeared to her chambers, leaving him to 'get settled'.

Draco 'settled' himself onto the edge of his bed and stared blankly at the wall of his bedroom. An all-too familiar feeling of hopelessness engulfed him. What was he supposed to do for two whole weeks?

His thoughts trailed irresistibly to Ginny. He wondered what she was doing right now.

-------------------------------------------------

Ginny glared at Charlie, hands on hips. He backed away slowly, trying to look invisible.

"Charles Weasley," she said in a voice of utmost reasonableness that made him wince. "Please explain to me - I must be extremely dense, because I don't understand -"

He tried to sidle out of the door, but was immobilised by her scathing glance.

"- why exactly you thought it would be _amusing_ -"

Charlie looked down at the floor sheepishly.

"- to put this _in my bed_!"

She dangled a squashy paper bag at arms length, an expression of disgust on her face.

-----------------------------------------------------

Probably having fun with her brothers, or chatting with her mum or something, Draco thought glumly. Having much more fun than him, anyway.

-----------------------------------------------------

"It was an accident," Charlie mumbled.

"An accident!" Ginny's voice seemed to soar several octaves. "I suppose the dung just _slipped_ into the bag by itself, did it? And it just _happened_ to fall under my eiderdown!"

Just then Molly came in through the door, wiping soapy hands on her apron and frowning.

"What on earth are you two fighting about now?" she asked angrily. "You know your father is trying to get some rest! I don't want you waking him up with your petty squabbling!"

Ginny scowled and stormed off, tossing her long red plait over her shoulder and hitting Charlie round the ear on the way out.

------------------------------------------------------

There was a sedate knock on the door, and Narcissa swung into the room, looking about her with her usual implacable expression. "Draco, child, why have you not unpacked yet?" there was the faintest hint of disapproval in her voice. "You've been home for more than an hour, what on earth have you been doing?"

"Nothing, mother," replied her son. He swung himself upright on the bed, slouching against the headboard. "Was there anything particular you wanted, or did you just come in here to patronise me?" he enquired in a bored voice.

"Don't take that tone with me, young man," Narcissa stated coldly. "I wish you to join me in the Blue Room for tea."

It was not a request, and Draco sighed a long-suffering sigh and stood up. "Shall I dress for dinner, mother?"

Narcissa swept her disdainful eyes up and down her son. "It would be advisable."

And then she was gone, leaving only a trace of perfume in the air and a bitter taste in Draco's mouth.

------------------------------------------------------

Harry was, as usual, spending the Christmas holidays with the Weasleys at the Burrow. Hermione, in a rare fit of filial loyalty, had decided that she really didn't spend enough time with her parents and was staying at home, leaving Ron to moon about the house looking sullen and snapping at anyone who crossed his path, Harry included. So naturally Harry gravitated towards Ginny, leaving Ron to sulk on his own.

Ginny was a little startled at the sudden attention, and, to her own surprise, less than pleased. What she really wanted to do was snuggle down in front of a window, watching the snow falling and daydreaming about her silver-eyed Slytherin. Instead, she was spending hours talking to Harry, playing cards and chess and helping to decorate the house. It seemed as though she would never get any peace, if it wasn't Harry then it was her brothers, dragging her out for snow fights, or her mother, calling her into the kitchen.

Usually Ginny would have loved this; she delighted in family and adored being adored, as she was. But now - since the accident - everything seemed to have changed. When someone hugged her, she imagined it was Draco with his arms around her. When she looked outside down to the village, dusted with snow and delicate as spun sugar, she wished she could share it with Draco.

She knew she was being childish. She knew it wasn't healthy. But still.

Still.

---------------------------------------------------------

Narcissa Malfoy sat at her dressing table, watching herself cry. The tears ran, fat and sparkling, down her pale cheeks. In the mirror, her reflection looked like the beautiful princess of legend; weeping softly as she waited for her prince to rescue her.

But Narcissa had no prince. No prince, and no rescue, only a husband in prison and a son she felt drawing further away from her with each day that passed.

There was a soft knock on the door and Narcissa started; only Draco knocked in that tentative, unsure manner.

She tried to hold back the tears but they only seemed to fall more thickly, and she clasped her hand over her mouth, rocking back and forwards to suppress the hurt.

"Mother?" Draco's voice was hushed. "Mother, what's wrong?" He rushed over to her but stopped just short of her chair, perplexed.

Truthfully, he didn't know what to do; he had never seen his mother lose control like this before.

Almost timidly, he reached a hand out to stroke her blonde hair, so like his own. Narcissa's shoulders were shaking violently, and her son felt an unaccustomed twinge of distress. He didn't like to see her cry. It made him feel...uncomfortable. As though it didn't quite fit. Not with his proud, patrician mother.

Standing there, chewing on one finger in anxiety, he asked himself - if this were Ginny, what would he do?

--------------------------------------------------------

Ginny sat in the kitchen, peeling potatoes and talking to Harry.

"I mean, I wouldn't really mind so much if they just came out and _said _it," he complained, scowling down at the tubers. "But all they do is ignore it. And when they're not ignoring each other, they're bickering like an old married couple. And when there's just three of you, there's no escape!"

Ginny clucked her tongue sympathetically, her mind elsewhere.

"And even if they did start going out, what then? I'd be the odd-one-out. Three's a crowd, that's what they say, isn't it? And what about if they broke up? Our friendship would be totally destroyed. I mean, it would be so awkward!"

"Mmm," Ginny said, nicking her finger with the peeler. "It _is_ a bit of a conundrum."

Harry turned to look her in the eyes. "I wish they could be more like_ you_, Gin," he said softly.

------------------------------------------------------

Draco held his mother tightly as she drew in her breaths in great, shuddering sobs.

"Sssh," he whispered soothingly. "Don't cry mother, don't worry. I'm here."

Slowly she drew away, taking large gulps of air. She rubbed at her eyes, smearing black mascara down her white cheeks.

"Thank you," she choked, her blue eyes round and full of unspoken meaning. "Thank you…my son."

One trembling, slender hand reached for his own and squeezed it spasmodically. Draco fleetingly thought of Ginny's hand, so much warmer and softer than this one, but hurriedly dismissed it.

"Why -" he hesitated, unsure of himself. "Why were you crying, mother?" His voice sounded scared and childish to his own ears, jarring harshly and making him grimace unconsciously.

Narcissa turned back to watch herself in the glass. Her eyes were red-rimmed; she was a mess.

They were silent for a long time. Finally, the blonde woman told her son: "There are no words, Draco. No words."

He shifted uneasily in his chair, baffled.

"What-"

"Your father is in Azkaban."

"I know…mother, are you feeling unwell?"

She ignored the question and turned to look intently at him again.

"You are my only son, Draco," she said. A half-smile tugged at the corners of her thin mouth. "My little Draco, my boy. You mean more to me than I could possibly say." She was hurrying now, the words tumbling out of her mouth quickly and running into one another, as though her tongue was running away with her.

"With your father away-" she broke off, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes again. She brushed them impatiently away. "I need you, my son. I feel as though I don't know you anymore. You're not my little Draco anymore, the little boy I brought into this world, my darling, my little dragon. It feels as though you're a stranger."

Draco's hand prickled painfully.

She leant forward in her eagerness. "You're all I have, Draco. And I'm all you have! We should be together. Show the world that nothing can defeat the Malfoys." She lifted her chin haughtily. "That even after everything that's happened, we're still standing strong!"

Her eyes were burning with a fervour he had never seen there before. "Draco - I can't tell you how horrified I was when I heard about your little - _escapade­ ­_- with that Weasley girl. I'm so relieved there was nothing in it! To think that a nasty little blood-traitor could steal my little boy away from me!"

Draco felt the burning heat of guilt flash through his stomach.

"I need you to be with me now, Draco, more than ever," his mother was continuing. "You're my whole world. And with your father - incapacitated - the Dark Lord will be looking to us to take his place -"

Draco started. The Dark Lord? _The Dark Lord_?

Something of Draco's horror must have shown on his face, because his mother leant forwards, squeezing his hand encouragingly. "Don't be afraid, my little dragon!" she crooned. "I'm with you, don't you understand? This is what I'm trying to say to you. Whatever lies ahead, for both of us, will be better as long as we're together!"

Numbly, Draco nodded his head, mind reeling. _The Dark Lord_? It was a name rarely mentioned in this house, whispered with reverence in darkened rooms filled with eyes gleaming with malevolence and a longing he had never understood.

Memories flooded his mind; a susurrus of sound that somehow reminded him of his father, of dinner parties filled with tall, brooding men, and himself, small and insignificant, peering wide-eyed through the keyhole…

Suddenly he was aware that his mother was speaking again, in that low, intense tone.

"Mother," he said, cutting her off abruptly. "I'm here for you." he was surprised at the strength of resolve in his voice. "But - don't let's talk about this anymore."

He acknowledged the mute relief in Narcissa's eyes. Malfoys simply did not _do _emotions. This had been awkward for both of them.

"Come on." He smiled at her. "You need to wash up and get dressed; remember we have guests coming at seven."

"Yes," Narcissa murmured absently, her gaze travelling inexorably back towards the mirror. She raised her hand to her cheek. "I am a mess, aren't I?"

"A beautiful mess nonetheless mother," said Draco gallantly. Pecking her on the cheek and straightening up.

"You are a good boy," she told him fondly.

Draco though of Ginny and flushed.

"I'll see you downstairs then."

"Yes," said Narcissa, her eyes not leaving her reflection. "Downstairs."

------------------------------------------------

Harry was starting to make Ginny feel a little nervous. It had been easier when it was a simple case of hero-worship on the one hand and total disregard on the other. The relationship had been much easier; when together, she would blush and he would completely ignore her.

Now, he kept on looking at her strangely, as though trying to solve a peculiarly difficult puzzle. Once he had tried to hold her hand under the dinner table, but had quickly dropped it after she kicked his shin angrily.

She knew he didn't really fancy her. It was just boredom, jealousy, and perhaps more than anything else, loneliness. Ginny was beginning to feel mightily pissed off with her youngest brother. If he'd stop moping around after Hermione - whom he would see in less than a fortnight anyway - then Ginny wouldn't be stuck with Harry like this!

She snuck a sidelong long at he black-haired boy, who was lying on the rug at her feet, playing with the hem of her robe. She had actually _liked_ him before. Now she was rapidly losing patience.

She kicked him.

"Ow, Ginny!" he looked up at her with baleful green eyes.

"Sorry, Harry," she said innocently. "I forgot you were down there!"

"That's alright, Gin," he said, looking up at her with that expression she'd come to dread. "I'll forgive you." He stood up quickly, grinning. "But look -" he pointed upwards.

Ginny looked up.

"Mistletoe!"

Ginny half-ran, half-fell out of the chair. "I think I hear mum calling me!"

Harry lunged for her, collapsing in the chair as she pelted out of the room. "Ginny, wait!"

--------------------------------------------------

Christmas day seemed to creep up on Draco unawares. He was awakened in the grey light of very early morning by the dull throbbing of his hand. He got dressed automatically, feeling numb and wishing with all his heart that this day was over or - and he clenched his fists unconsciously with the thought - that Ginny was here.

Christmas had never been a very festive occasion at the manor. He could remember, vaguely, the excitement that he had felt as a child on seeing the tall, dark fir tree looming in the hall, the mounds of boxes wrapped in shining silver paper. But as he grew older, it lost its charm.

Why exclaim over fabulous gifts when you can have whatever you desire, at the snap of your finger, all year round? And as the years went passed his parents seemed more and more divorced from him.

Narcissa had never been…

He couldn't bear to complete he though, not even in the privacy of his own mind.

The purebloods had a long history of intermarriage. His mother's blood was as pure as any, and better than most. Whilst mostly he was proud of this heritage, it did bring….difficulties.

There had been rumours, he knew. About the Black family. Narcissa's mother, Druella Rosier-Black, was generally whispered to have been - unwell - in her later years. It was from her that Narcissa inherited her pale good looks; Draco had for a long time feared that she would prove to be more similar to her mother than they had thought.

He'd always known that his mother loved him; it was just a fact, something that was, like the sun rising in the eastern sky every morning. Oh yes, she loved him, in her cold, intense way. She loved her husband as well, for reasons that Draco could never fathom. And to this end she had spent her time trying to please the two men in her life to the best of her ability; she had joined the ranks of the Deatheaters not for loyalty to the Dark Lord, but in unquestioning, unreasoning passion for Lucius.

She threw dinner parties often; kept a spotless house, dressed with impeccable taste and was an exemplary dinner hostess. Draco knew all of these things -and yet - and yet -

He saw her again as she had been a few days ago, mindlessly watching herself cry in the mirror. He shuddered as he felt the icy fingers of fear clutching at the base of his spine.

His grandmother had spent her last confined to her bedroom, seeing no one but the immediate family. He did not want that fate for his own mother.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Ginny awoke on Christmas morning with a buzz of excitement already tingling through her. She could smell the delicious scent of her mother's cooking; laughter came from downstairs and she knew the family was waiting for her; she was always the last to rise.

Throwing on an old dressing gown, she flew down the stairs and into the living room.

"It's about time!" grumbled Ron, but he was grinning.

"Merry Christmas!" she squealed, hugging her brother.

"Steady on, Gin, you'll break my ribs!" he joked, pulling her down to sit with him.

"Up at last, Ginny?" Molly hurried into the room, her plump face glowing with happiness. "Well, you know what that means!"

"Presents!"

-------------------------------------------------------

Breakfast was a cool affair. His aunt and uncle, the Lestranges, had joined them for this day, which Narcissa insisted would be a 'family occasion'. Draco didn't mind his aunt Bellatrix; his mother was always calmer when she was around.

He had seen pictures of the two of them when younger; two beautiful, proud sisters forever smiling and tossing their hair in the photograph. Oh yes she had been beautiful! And there was a knowing look in her eyes, a mischievous smile that made you think: yes, I would like to meet this woman.

But not any longer. His aunt bore no resemblance to the vivacious girl in the picture. She was gaunt, her eyes shadowed and her voice grim. But Draco respected her. She could keep his mother steady. Oh yes, Bellatrix was alright.

But Rodolphus...

Rodolphus was talking about Lucius, apparently heedless of the tears forming in his sister-in-law's eyes.

"Such a pity he couldn't join us, sister dear," he said in his peculiarly nasal voice, dark eyes glittering disquietingly.

Bellatrix shot her husband an angry glance and took her sister's hand. Narcissa bowed her head.

"There there, Cissy, don't cry," she said soothingly.

Draco hoped Ginny's day was going better than his.

Bellatrix cleared her throat. "Isn't Draco growing into a fine strong lad!"

"Yes," Rodolphus said, clearly enjoying himself. "The spit and image of -"

"Of you, sister!" finished Bellatrix hurriedly. "He's got your delicate complexion, my dear, but the Black bearing. He'll make us all proud yet, I'll wager!"

Narcissa smiled tenderly at her son, momentarily diverted. "He will," she said fervently. "Oh, Bella, I just know he will!"

Draco tried not to squirm as all three adults gazed at him.

Rodolphus grinned lazily. "Seventeen soon, aren't you, boy? We'll have to see about marrying you off."

Draco stiffened, looking to the women for support, but to his horror, he saw them both nodding their agreement.

"You come from a proud family, Draco. It is your duty to carry on the line!" Bellatrix told him, looking down at her own tarnished wedding band.

"Lucius would so love a grandchild," Narcissa mused, her voice wavering uncertainly. "A little boy, you know, a Malfoy heir. I remember how pleased he was when I told him I was carrying you, my little dragon! So proud!"

Draco suppressed a groan and asked politely to be excused from the table.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Ginny spent the whole day laughing. By the time they came to sit down to dinner, her jaws ached and her stomach felt weak. It hurt to keep smiling. But she couldn't stop!

To her immense satisfaction, she was seated between the twins at the table. She beamed at them happily, girlish in her enthusiasm. The old table quite literally groaned under the weight of the laden dishes. Even Ron was animated at the sight; he clutched his stomach and gazed longingly at the steaming dish of potatoes close to him, waiting for his father to join them so they could begin.

The walls were literally sparkling with streamers and tinsel, with mistletoe and wreaths of holly; it hardly seemed like their old dining room anymore; it was transformed into a fairy grotto, filled with family and food and fun.

Ginny never spared a thought for Draco all that day. She felt guilty out it afterwards, but after all - family came first.

------------------------------------------------------

Draco went to lie on his bed, to escape the endless banalities of the drawing room. Christmas! What a meaningless, torturous holiday! He wished fervently he'd stayed at Hogwarts. The castle felt more like home to him than the manor right now, and it held better memories too.

Draco had received a mountain of gifts, as always, all expensive, tasteful and utterly useless. His aunt had given him stationery embossed with his monogram; very beautiful and very embarrassing. He'd never use it.

His mother had been delighted with his gift to her; pair of silver-backed hairbrushes; goblin-wrought and very delicate. Draco knew his mother's tastes better than his own. He'd been quietly gratified to see the pleasure on her face as she opened the box.

But there was one present he had yet to give. His gaze travelled to his wardrobe. Behind the closed doors, nestling in a bed of his old school robes was a very small package, neatly wrapped in blue paper and with a small name tag reading: Miss Ginevra Weasley, The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Surrey.

The thought of her was all that was keeping him sane, he was sure. In his mind he replayed over and over again their last meeting, the relief of finally confessing his feelings. When he held her in his arms a warm, glowing feeling spread through his chest; lying here, in the embrace of his family, all he felt was cold.

If only he could find some way to give Ginny her gift! He wouldn't trust it to an owl; he knew that Bellatrix had taken to reading his mail. So how?

---------------------------------------------

That evening, Ginny sat curled on the sofa with her head in her father's lap, sleepy and contented. She wasn't really thinking about anything much; her eyes drifted shut and she felt as though she were floating, suspended in a sea of warmth and twinkling Christmas lights.

She could hear the murmur of voices in the room, and laughter, but as though it was coming from far away.

Suddenly her eyes snapped open, and she pushed herself upright.

"What was that?"

Harry looked at her in surprise. "I though you were asleep, Gin," he said, his voice tender with holiday cheer and several bottles of butterbeer.

She ignored him. "What was that you were saying, Ron?"

He yawned hugely. "I was just talking about Malfoy."

Arthur felt his daughter tense, and looked sharply at her.

"What about Malfoy?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

Ron sent an adoring look at his new Chudley Cannons models before replying. "I was just saying, he's still strutting round the school like cock of the walk even though everyone knows his dad's in Azkaban."

"You should have a little compassion Ron," said Ginny, trying not to sound angry. "It _is_ Christmas. And it is his dad, even if he's an evil Deatheater."

"Are you serious, Ginny?" asked Ron incredulously. "Like father, like son, that's what I say! Everyone knows Draco Malfoy wants to step in his dad's shoes."

"Ron! How dare you make judgements like that! You don't even _know_ him!" Ginny was so furious, she didn't even try to stem the righteous indignation in her voice. "By your reasoning, you must be a raving plug maniac with a dead battery collection!" She shot a quick glance at her father. "No offence meant, dad."

"None taken," replied Arthur, a little nonplussed at the way the conversation was progressing.

"Why are you so quick to take his side, Ginny?" chipped in Harry. "After everything that happened at the end of last year. _You_ hexed him!"

Ginny flushed. "Only because I had to, to save your skin! And I don't believe in judging someone by their family. Look at Sirius -" She faltered.

Harry looked away from her, paling. "Yeah, well, Sirius was different, OK?" he said aggressively. "And you know as well as anyone what he said to me at the end of last term. He was defending his scumbag father."

"You can't blame him for defending his dad," Ginny said, powerless to stop herself. "It's natural to love your family, no mater how evil they are. I just don't think he's the same!"

"Why are you sticking up for him all of a sudden?" demanded Ron, clutching a figurine tightly.

"I'm not," mumbled Ginny, realising that she was drawing too much attention to herself.

"You're not going to try and get friendly with him, are you?" asked Ron, looking revolted.

"No!" Ginny said quickly - too quickly, Arthur thought.

He leant forward. "Ginny, do you like this boy?" he asked gently

"Well, he is very good looking," she said fairly. "And he's really clever, everyone says so." She shrugged. "So why should I go out of my way to make an enemy of him, like they do?" she indicated the boys. "And he's _not_ a Deatheater, he's too young."

"Well, boys, I have to say she's right" Arthur said, stretching.

"What, you think Malfoy's good looking too?" Ron stared blankly at his father.

The older wizard laughed. "No, I mean I think Ginny's right not to get on the wrong side of young mister Malfoy. If someone like my daughter can befriend the son of a Deatheater, and bring him over to the right side, that's all to the good. And even if it doesn't get that far, well, it just goes to show that my daughter is a good person, willing to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. And that's something."

He stroked her shining red hair proudly, and she felt a surge of hope. Maybe, just maybe, her father would accept her and Draco seeing each other; and if he did, the rest of the family would too, she knew it. She nestled into his hand, smiling smugly at her brother.

He shook his head, exchanging a glance with Harry. "Mad," he muttered. "Completely mad."

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Draco sauntered through the hall, fastening the clasp of his cloak. "Mother," he called. "I'm going out flying for a bit, alright?"

"Alright then Draco," she called through. "Don't go far now, will you?"

Draco smiled, and lied. "Of course not."

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Ginny snuggled down into the softness of her mattress, her nostrils filled with the comforting scent of her mum's washing. She felt utterly, utterly tired, bodily and emotionally, and filed with a quiet sense of triumph that even seemed to soothe the ever-present hurt in her hand.

She had left the window open so that the crisp Christmas air could flow over her, and the room was flooded with moonlight.

She breathed in deeply. The throbbing really did seem to be receding.

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Draco hovered over the Burrow. How in the world was he supposed to know which was Ginny's window? He hoped she didn't share a room.

Gods, that would be embarrassing.

There were no lights on; it was past midnight after all. But one, on the second floor, was flung wide open. He grinned to himself. Trust Ginny.

Ginny felt an icy-cold hand clasp her mouth, and another snaking round her waist. She drew in breath to scream.

"Ginny! It's me! Draco!" he whisper was urgent. "Don't scream, don't scream!"

Ginny stiffened in shock, then relaxed as she felt the familiar touch of his hand on hers.

She twisted round to stare at him wonderingly. One small warm hand came up to stroke his cheek. "Are you real? Or am I dreaming?" she asked, her voice so low he had to bend closer to hear her.

"I'm real! Now shove over, I'm freezing." He scooted under the duvet and she gasped.

"You're so cold!"

"Well, I've come a long way."

"Why did you come?" she turned to face him properly. They were so close that Draco could count every tiny freckly on her upturned nose.

"Other than just to see you, you mean?" he grinned. "I came to give you this."

"Oh!" Ginny exclaimed in pleasure. Then her face fell. "But Draco, I haven't got anything for you."

"It's enough just to see you," he said honestly. "Any excuse to leave that mausoleum I call home, I'm telling you. Well, aren't you going to open it?"

Biting her lip softly, Ginny pulled the paper off the box. "Oh Draco, it's exquisite!"

Nestled in the tissue paper was a tiny golden horse. At Ginny's exclamation, she lifted her head and tossed her mane sleepily.

"Oh, how can I thank you!"

"I'm sure I'll think of something." He leaned forward to kiss her. "I just wanted to give you something so you know…I really do love you."

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As always, please read and review! Apologies for the fluff, I promise it won't happen again...

I have to say, writing about Christmas when we're in the height of summer here in England was very strange.


	10. A Crisis of Faith

Standard disclaimer applies: I do not own anything related to the name Harry Potter, I am not making any money out of this and I intend no copyright infringement.

In this chapter we take a turn for the worse...the mood is slightly different to last chapter. I hope you like it, it's not as long as the last but the next should be out qute quickly.

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_Let wickedness escape as it may at the bar, it never fails of doing justice upon itself; for every guilty person is his own hangman. _**- Seneca**

Draco's little adventure on Christmas night had caused rather more trouble than he'd anticipated. His mother hadn't noticed; she'd undoubtedly been tucked up in bed with the bottle of eggnog ten minutes after he'd left. But Bellatrix had been waiting for him.

It had taken a lot of fast talking on his part to worm his way out of that. His aunt had stared at him with her dark, heavy-lidded eyes, and he'd felt as though they were boring straight into him, as though she could read his mind.

Eventually she had dismissed his fumbling excuses with a wave of her thick hands. "I think perhaps I should start giving you a few private lessons, nephew," she had told him.

"In what?"

"Legilimency, of course!" she snorted at his stupidity. "You've got the right mind for it, you know. I mean, I'm not an expert, not like some -" She broke off, glowering into the distance; if possible, her eyes seemed to grow a little darker. "But I'm pretty good. And whilst I can clearly see you've been lying to me - no, don't try and deny it, stupid boy - I can't tell where you went. Which isn't bad for an untrained mind," she added grudgingly. "But when you go back to Hogwarts you'll be wanting to hide things from more powerful Legilimens than me." She raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

Draco rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Look, aunt Bellatrix, I really don't know what you're talking about. I just want to go too bed!"

"Life is too short to while it away sleeping, Draco," Bellatrix told him crisply. "Severus Snape, boy! With that snake at Hogwarts, you've got to keep your wits sharp and your mind closed."

"Professor Snape?" repeated Draco disbelievingly. "Aunt Bellatrix, I think maybe you've had a bit too much eggnog."

"Don't mock me, boy. That man is not to be trusted," she said darkly. "There's too much ambiguity about this double-agent business if you ask me."

"_Goodnight_, aunt Bellatrix."

He had, all in all, regretted going to the Burrow. And not just that either. He really regretted all of that…business with Ginny. Telling her that he loved her. What had he been thinking? Well, he mused now, that was rather the point. He obviously hadn't been thinking. I mean, alright, he probably _did_ love her - or as close to it as a Malfoy could ever get - but to come out and say it like that…

He'd never be able to cut free of her now. And that soppy little gift; in retrospect, also a mistake. It was very pretty, and she had been gratifyingly pleased with it, but now she was going to be expecting that kind of overblown romantic gestures all the time. And really, Draco was not that sort.

Mind you, it had been pleasant lying in the warmth of Ginny's bed, feeling her smile against his chest. More than pleasant, really. He pondered this for a while. What it really came down to, he supposed, was what meant more to him. Ginny - or practically everything else in is life. His parents, his friends - and probably his whole Slytherin way of life.

Put like that, it seemed as though he was making a pretty stupid decision, seeing the girl. But of course, there was the wild card; the Curse. It wasn't as though he had much choice in the matter. He'd tried ignoring her; all that happened was that they both became ill and depressed by turns.

Perhaps the most sensible thing to do would be to perform a little research, while he was at home. The library at Hogwarts was supposed to be the most comprehensive in the country - in the whole of Europe, even - but the Malfoys had been collecting for centuries, each generation adding their finds so that future generations might benefit.

Perhaps here at the manor he could find something more informative that the near-useless information they had been given at Hogwarts. Certainly the selection of dark material would be far wider here than the Restricted Section at school. There was a small part of Draco's mind (that spoke in what sounded suspiciously like Ginny's voice) that suggested the Curse, whatever it was, was not dark magic - but he brushed it aside.

He had to know - because in the deepest, murkiest realms of his Malfoy soul he felt it was a matter of duty to his family, and honour, for Ginny, to try and find some way out of the situation. He couldn't help feeling that somewhere there had to be more than the paltry information Snape had given him all those weeks ago.

Who was it he had mentioned? Draco thought for a while, tapping his finger on his chin. William Wordsworth and Annette Vallon - they had been the last recorded example. If they had been the latest, there was bound to be the most documentation about them, he reasoned.

A little apprehensive, and very unsure of his motives, he made his way to the library. A more different room to the library at Hogwarts could not be imagined. Where the school was lined with old wooden shelves, carpeted in a thick red and smelt of dust and geriatric librarian, the Malfoy library was cold and heartless.

The room was kept bitterly cold, and very dry, to preserve the books. There were no comfy seats and benches; no worktables. Instead, there was marble and stone; different sections were hidden in great stone boxes; like coffins, Draco always thought. The library had been constructed under the manor; beneath even the basement, and was lit by torches filled with perpetual steely blue light.

Draco remembered coming here as a very small child, accompanied by hiss father.

"This, my boy," Lucius had said, his eyes glittering in the cold glow, gesturing expansively, "is the Malfoy library."

Draco had looked around wonderingly. He was but four years old, and did not really know what a library was. "It is very wonderful, father," he said, his little voice echoing eerily and making him jump and clutch at his father's robes.

"Of course it is wonderful, son," Lucius replied, his voice deepening with pride. "It is the duty and the joy of every Malfoy to add to this great collection, for posterity and the family name."

Draco had not understood most of these words, but he was suitably awed and looked up at the huge stone coffers, marvelling at the alabaster effigies. "It is like the Great Crypt, father," he had said, for Lucius was taking him on a tour of the family estates, and they had visited the old mausoleum the day before.

The elder Malfoy's laugh had reverberated around the old place, making him appear, in the young Draco's eyes, as more mysterious, more terrible than ever.

"This is no tomb, my son. Inside these sarcophagi -" and he had laughed, at yet another word Draco did not understand - "there are books, not people."

"Books, father?" the little boy had been excited then, for story time was his favourite part of the day. His mother always read to him before bedtime. "Like _Priscilla the Perfect Witch_?" That was what they were reading at the moment, and it was Draco's favourite to date.

Again that booming, hollow laugh.. "No, son. More like this." He'd raised his hand, and at once a great stone lid lifted with a sort of groan, and two fat, dustless tomes had flown towards them.

One was bound in brown leather, with heavy gold lettering tracing the words _Burke's Peerage_. The second was considerably larger, and bound in what was unmistakably dragonhide. The lettering was an ugly dark read, in heavy gothic text, and read _Almanach de Gotha._

I am sure that many of my readers will recognise these famous titles; who could not? And you will be saying to yourselves: ah, but these are Muggle titles, what could a proud pureblood wizard like Lucius Malfoy want with them? The cleverer readers will note that there have not been authoritative publications of these works for many years.

But to this I reply: when has there been a good idea in our world, that did not come first from that of magic? Among wizards, the purity of blood has been a primary concern for far longer than it has concerned Muggles, who are much more lenient in the way of morganatic marriages, bastardy and other such vile events. And let us not forget that the nobility of Muggles is vastly interlinked with that of the magical world.So let no doubt be in your mind; not only were these volumes infinitely more accurate than anything ever produced in _our_ world, they were also of vital importance, and Lucius could no more let his son grow up without the knowledge of them than he could lick his own elbow. (A/N: LOL! What a mental image!)

For many years they remained among Draco's most well-thumbed books. After all, quite aside from anything else, he loved to read about himself.

The best paragraph in the book read:

_This son was named Draco, for the dragon-like qualities predicted at his birth and for the fascinating constellation, containing the Cat's Eye Nebula. He showed unusually early signs of magical talent and was placed upon the lists of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry soon after his birth. No betrothals have been entered upon as yet, though of course the young Malfoy will make a fine partner for any pureblooded maiden._

Oh yes, Draco loved to read about himself.

Shaking himself out of the reminiscence, he looked appraisingly at the casket holding those favoured tomes, but restrained himself and walked past them, to the biography section.

These titles were less familiar than his childhood favourites; bound with less care, but in more pristine condition. Draco doubted that his father had even read any of them; to him, it was a duty to add to the collection, certainly, but that did not mean he had to _read_ his additions. He had far more pressing concerns than mere _literature_.

Draco touched a certain point on the wall. "William Wordsworth," he said aloud, his voice suddenly returning to him deep and commanding from the echoey depths of the vault.

It made solemn reading. It did not really offer him any great insight into the curse that he shared with the poet - at least, none that he could see - but it was fascinating. And he did see certain parallels. During their great separation, when Wordsworth left Annette and their daughter to return to England, they had both suffered from severe depression, sometimes even manifesting itself in the form f physical illness. The biographer attributed the intense poetry of this period, Wordsworth's greatest works, to these feelings.

Draco could sympathise. Deprived of Ginny's company, it would be all too easy to slide into depression. They had both felt the illness already. But the author went on to say that most analysts since their death had decided that their bonding had probably only been a partial one, insignificant compared to the ones that had gone before. They had endured a separation of many, many years without the agonies usual in such circumstances; Wordsworth had even married after leaving Annette, and the union had appeared a happy one. Previous couples had suicided during enforced separations, unable to endure the pain.

He replaced the book carefully and left the library, feeling strangely tense.

This odd sense of unease remained with him for the remainder of the holidays; it followed him on to the Hogwarts express, where he took his usual place and waited for Blaise to join him with growing discomfort.

He couldn't quite put his finger on the problem, other than the obvious - he hadn't seen Ginny since that night, although they had spoken, in their special way. But somehow he didn't think that was it. He felt the absence of her, as always, in a physical ache in his hand and an emptiness in his chest.

But this didn't seem to be related. It was akin to apprehension - he felt as though he was waiting for something to happen, like the tension you felt in a Quidditch match when you know a bludger is going to hit you but there's nothing you can do to escape it.

Blaise's greeting was, as usual, non-existent. Draco raised a hand to acknowledge him. They hadn't discussed Ginny, or the curse, for some time now, since Draco had been ignoring her for the last month, and their relationship was back to normal, inasmuch as that was possible.

Well, he reflected, it probably wasn't what other people would term 'normal'. They sat in silence for most of the journey, exchanging the barest of pleasantries about one another's holiday and family.

Although Draco didn't know it, Blaise had spent most of the journey debating exactly how far he could trust his friend. He had remained deeply suspicious ever since the Ginny incident, despite the blonde-haired boy's constant reassurances.

And he had not spent the Christmas period at home with his mother, as he'd told Draco.

"You look uncharacteristically cheerful, Draco," he said abruptly. "It doesn't suit you. "What happened over the Christmas break to put such a ridiculous smile on your face?"

Draco felt a wave of embarrassment (some habits are hard to break); surely he hadn't been grinning that obviously? He been trying to school his face to its usual implacable mask, but obviously he had failed.

"Not much," he replied off-handedly.

"That explains everything," replied Blaise acerbically.

Draco made a quick decision. "Actually, I did a lot of thinking over the holidays. I was with Mother, as you know, and my aunt and uncle. But I did see one other person." He stopped, wondering how to continue.

Blaise sat upright, his black eyes snapping. "You saw one other," he repeated slowly. "Can I guess who this person is?"

Draco shifted uneasily. "I expect so," he replied haughtily.

Blaise's black eyes snapped in irritation. "It wouldn't happen to be that Gryffindor vermin we were discussing a few months ago, would it?"

Draco felt a surge of anger. "If you are referring to Ginny Weasley," he replied stiffly. "Then yes!" He lifted his chin defiantly.

"Then you are an even greater fool than I thought," Blaise replied, leanign forward. His tone was intense, but not, as Draco had feared it would be, filled with disgust and anger. "I have learned much these last two weeks, my friend," he said, suddenly gripping Draco' hand. "Much that is dark and dangerous. And I can tell you this with absolute certainty - if you are seeing her - if you care for her at all - then it will be better for the both of you to leave her well alone."

Confused argent eyes met troubled black ones. "I do not understand you," said Draco slowly. "Is that a threat, Blaise?"

The other boy shook his head violently. "Mercy, no, Draco! I have ceased to care about your affairs - what are women, after all, to a firm friendship? I am merely telling you what will happen. It is not just your father - Himself - the Dark Lord - will take action against you, both of you! You must understand how it will look in the eyes of others, if you take up with this girl - it will look like an act of treason, of defiance. And you above all others must know what that means!"

He tightened his grip. "You are my only true friend, Draco Malfoy. We were boys together. I do not want anything to happen to you, or to your little Gryffindor either, if it will affect you. But it will. I know it will."

Draco returned Blaise's gaze steadily, overcome with affection for his fellow Slytherin. "I appreciate the advice, Blaise, and the warning," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But I have not been entirely honest with you. The curse…it is not a curse, as such. It's a bonding. Snape called it a 'soul twinning'. I can't leaver her, Blaise. Well…I can - but it hurts."

Blaise withdrew his hand. "I can't say I didn't expect you to say something like this. And I can't say it doesn't gall me, that of all the girls in the world, you ha to choose her. All I can say is - well, it's your choice. But bear in mind what I've said. And Draco…let me know what you decide, won't you? Because if you choose her, I won't see you anymore. I'll have to cut myself off from you completely. Do you understand? Not just because of any repercussions. Because you mean a lot to me and if I remain your friend, as I am now, then I don't think I'll be able to bear your death."

With one last, lingering look at his friend, he left the compartment, in search of less troublesome company.

Draco's head was reeling. Surely Blaise was being a little melodramatic, wasn't he? To speak of his best friends death with such cold finality…Draco shuddered. He knew, of course, that Blaise was right. He had been putting Ginny in danger from the beginning, and as for himself - well, it had always been dangerous to be a Malfoy, now more than ever.

He knew that the Dark Lord expected him to take the place of his father, that he might even want to punish him for Lucius' mistakes at the Ministry. All through the previous year, he had watched his father disappear to meetings with the Dark Lord, and other Deatheaters. And Lucius had begun to look upon his son with a dark delight, planning his future, in the middle of the Dark Revolution.

Draco tried to examine his own feelings towards the Dark Lord. Yes, he had always expected to go into His service. But mostly because he wanted to make his father proud, for the sake of the family name. And…if he was truly honest with himself, not just for that. He liked the idea of having power over people - yes, Malfoys were always attracted to power. An he had been brought up knowing that the malfoys, a pureblood family, were superior. They deserved power. It was their duty to school others into the correct way of thinking…the pureblood way…

Oh yes, he had anticipated the time of the Dark Lord's call with a certain anticipation. He would not have refused a place in the Deatheaters' inner circle.

But with his father away, out of sight and out of mind in Azkaban, it had been all too easy to ignore the Deatheaters and the Dark Lord's growing power. Draco would undoubtedly be expected to devote himself to the cause when he turned of age, just months from now…and when it was discovered that he had switched allegiance…that he was consorting with a girl whose family were almost all members of the Order of the Phoenix…

He felt those icy fingers clutching at the base of his spine as his stomach contracted painfully in terror. What they would do to Ginny -

He cut off the awful thought before it could progress any further. He felt sick at the thought of how naïve, how ridiculous he had been these past few months, burying his head in the sand and ignoring the most important events of the age.

He buried his head in his hands with a groan. What could he do? If he stayed with Ginny, if he declared their attachment, then of a certainty she would die, and probably him as well. And, searching the depths of his soul, he knew that he would fid it difficult; even now he felt twinges of guilt.

If they stayed together secretly…but, he was a fool even to contemplate it. If they separated then they would both be safe, at least from the machinations of the Dark Lord and his Deatheaters.

But would they really be safe? The two-weeks just gone had been unbearable as it was. And to have her close to him, at Hogwarts, seeing her day after day but being unable to speak to her, to touch her…would he be able to bear it? Would she?

He reached out to her; he could feel her mood, jubilant and self-satisfied, partly because of himself, he knew. Could he really bring himself to ruin that forever?

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In a different part of the train, Ginny was closeted in a carriage with Cass and Colin, he mood elated and her face radiant, as it had been for most of the holiday.

They were all laughing as Colin recounted the most embarrassing experience of his holiday; he had gone skiing with his parents, which had been mostly good fun, aside from one very unfortunate experience involving a sauna, a Japanese Karaoke bar and an Indian foot massage.

As they wiped the tears from their eyes, Cassiopeia turned to her red-headed friend. "What about you, Gin? You look really happy, what happened to you over the holidays?"

"Oh Cass, the most wonderful thing!" Ginny broke out joyfully, her eyes shining. Then suddenly she remembered herself, and clapped her hand over her mouth in remorse.

"What's the matter?" Colin asked, concerned.

Ginny made a split-second decision. "I probably shouldn't tell you this," she said slowly. "But I've been dying to for ages, and you're my best friends, I think you deserve to know the truth!"

Colin and Cass exchanged glances.

"It's nothing bad!" Ginny reassured them, laughing. "But quite interesting, as it happens…"

She finished telling the tale with her friends staring at her, open-mouthed.

"Well, say something then!" she laughed uneasily.

"Dear Merlin, Gin," managed Colin at last. "How on earth did you manage to keep something that big from us all this time?"

"It wasn't easy," she confessed. "I wanted to tell you…but the time was never right for it."

"Draco Malfoy!" squealed Cass, throwing off he stupor at last. "Ginny, you jammy beggar! He is seriously hot stuff!" she rolled her eyes theatrically. "I love the way he talks, like he just doesn't give a damn…"

Ginny smiled, caught between amusement and a jealous possessiveness. "That's because he really doesn't give a damn, Cass."

Colin looked worried. "But…everyone knows the Malfoys are Deatheaters, Ginny!"

Ginny felt a flicker of annoyance. "Just because his dad is doesn't mean that he is too!" But even as she said it, she wondered; after all, they had never discussed it before. What if he - she dismissed the thought impatiently. Of course Draco would never dream of joining the ranks of such evil!

She reached out to him, and found him in turmoil; there was guilt, anger, desire - and overriding it all a terrible stink of fear. She recoiled, repulsed and bewildered.

"Draco isn't a Deatheater," she said quietly. "And even if he were - he would give it up, for me." She thought back to his visit at Christmas. "I know he would." But she didn't sound certain, even to herself.

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Please review! I don't want to have to beg, but it's getting that way...

I plan for eight more chapters, most longer than this one, so keeping reading!


	11. A Choice

I was reading my emails, and discovered all these reviews for something I'd forgotten all about - a fanfic! And I thought it was proabably a bit bad of mean to leave it hanging when people wanted to see how the story ends...so here's something I knocked up in an hour (no joke!) so please excuse me if there are loads of mistakes! If you like it I'll finish the story, if not I won't!

Disclaimer: none of this belongs to me, except possibly the plot, and probably not even that.

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Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice; it is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved. - **W. J. Bryan**

They were both of them too busy that first day to do anything than wonder, and wait, and pretend to be happy to see their friends again, and to be nothing more than reluctant to start lessons again, just like everybody else. By the time it came to seat themselves in the Great Hall for the start of term feast, Ginny was squirming in her seat in impatience. She could feel the ebb and flow of Draco's emotions like the tide of some great sea, dark and tempestuous on the edge of her consciousness. It made her restless, and she picked at her food with little appetite and wished that the time would pass quickly so that she could meet Draco – her heart beat faster at the thought – and confront him.

Cass and Colin exchanged significant glances and looked furtively over at the Slytherin table in avid curiosity – but not looking too hard, in case Malfoy would catch them looking, and sneer. Ginny was grateful that they were sympathetic enough not to quiz her; she felt she could barely form coherent thoughts at the moment, let alone sentences.

She let her gaze fall once, and once only at the Slytherin table, and found an answering silver regard waiting for her. In that moment, she said: _Tonight, at nine in the Owlery._ And that was all. She didn't dare risk saying more; she didn't want him to feel how tense she was and question her before she was ready. And to think she had been so happy just a few short hours ago, pinking with happiness with the knowledge of his gift, and what was even more wonderful, of his love! If only, she thought desperately, if only there were no such thing as a Deatheater! If only she had never even heard there was such a thing! If only she had never set eyes on Draco Malfoy – but no, not that. Never that.

--

Draco brooded over a goblet of pumpkin juice, wishing for the first time that it was something stronger. Firewhisky, perhaps. It might give him the courage to do what he knew he must do. He had decided what to do. He must tell Ginny the truth – the whole truth, not just little bits of it. If she was going to understand the situation and the danger, she would need to know the whole story. He suppressed a shudder, imagining the pity in her eyes as he told her of his childhood, the wonder and incomprehension when he struggled to explain his relationship with his parents.

Pansy Parkinson leant across the table to him, deliberately pressing herself against the edge of the table to give him a good look at her generous cleavage. "And what do you think, Draco?" she asked breathily, batting her eyelashes. Idly Draco twirled the stem of his goblet, gave her breasts a cursory glance out of habit, and shot her a smouldering glance for the sake of the effect he knew it would have on the infatuated girl. She looked at him like a spaniel gazes at its master, and he smiled tightly to himself in satisfaction. His ego would take all the massaging it could get, today! He was sure that Ginny would do her best to puncture it later.

"I agree with you of course, Pans," he said lazily, enjoying the look of irritation that flashed across Blaise's face. He had no idea what they had been discussing, but it was a fair bet that Pansy had just said something ridiculous, and Blaise was looking to Draco for support in crushing her.

The dark-haired girl simpered in pleased surprise. "I knew you would," she cooed, shooting Blaise a venomous look. "Of course there's no such thing as goblins! They're just old men who have been so vile, that their looks have changed so that they are as ugly on the outside as they are on the inside." Her tone was triumphant. "That's what my nurse always told me, and she never lied."

Draco's shoulders immediately began to shake with repressed laughter as he fought to control his mirth. "You're perfectly right," he said, the merest hint of laughter in his voice. "And Professor Binns, of course is wrong, and so are all of the historians whose books we read. The world has been cruelly misled by a – a race of evil-minded old men." A smile threatened to twitch at the corners of his mouth, but he suppressed it and looked at Blaise. There was something of their old comradeship in that look; a mutual understanding that said _yes, this girl is silly, and we are clever and together we can make her know it!_

And Blaise leant over with a gleam in his eye that Draco hadn't seen for months and gravely added "I'm sorry I doubted you, Pansy. In future I shall always refer to you rather than to respected scholars."

Pansy pinked, in pleasure, and looked down modestly. But then something seemed to occur to her and she brought her head up sharply, gazing at them with suspicious eyes. "You're making fun of me!" She looked from one boy to the other, her voice quivering in indignation.

"Now why would we do a thing like that?" Draco's amusement was obvious now, and she bridled. He looked away as she started to let them know, furiously, exactly what she thought of them, and his gaze fell as if by accident on the Gryffindor table. On one Gryffindor in particular.

As if feeling the heat in his look, she turned her head towards him and her voice rang in his mind as familiarly as his own. _Tonight, at nine in the Owlery. _Her tone was as serious as he had ever heard it, and he turned away as the awareness of everything he had to say to her rose up in him once more.

Pansy, taking his troubled face as a sign that he had taken her admonishments to heart for once, cried out in triumph. "Let that be a lesson to you Draco! You take me for granted, but just because I've always loved you doesn't mean I always will. You should be nicer to me!"

Her words disturbed Draco not because he gave a damn what she thought of him, but because they made him think of Ginny. He knew that she would always love him, knew it as a fact, immutable and unchanging. And that was because of the curse. But he also knew instinctively that the curse would not make her like him, or respect him. Was he going to forfeit her friendship if he told her about the Malfoys and the Dark Lord? He felt almost nauseous at the thought, and then despised himself for feeling it.

Unconsciously, he tossed his head, his aristocratic lip curling in disdain. Well, not matter what this curse had made him, he was still a Malfoy! And if he had the courage to tell her the truth, and the temerity to look her in the eye as he did it, why that made his as strong a Wizard as any and she would be a fool not to respect him for it! He felt a heady rush of the old Malfoy pride. Nothing had changed, after all.

Nothing, and everything.

--

At nine in the Owlery they stood apart, hugging their robes to themselves against the cold of the January winds that came to bite at their white lips and pinched cheeks. Ginny looked at the floor, unwilling and somehow unable to meet Draco's glance.

He broke the silence first. "I owe you an explanation," he said simply.

"You're not wrong!" Heat suddenly flooded back into Ginny's cheeks. "I've catching bits of your thoughts all day. You're – you're a mess."

Draco hesitated, wondering what to say.

"It's because of what happened at Christmas, isn't it?" the words came out in a rush, accusingly. "You wish you hadn't come. You wish you hadn't given me that horse. You wish you hadn't said – said that you loved me." Her words dropped to a whisper and her eyes stung with hot, shameful tears.

"Oh Merlin, Ginny, is that what you think?" Draco ran a hand tiredly through his hair. "It's not that. It's pretty much the opposite of that in fact. It may be conclusive proof that I've gone mad, but I'm actually pretty please to see you again, Weaselette."

She smiled weakly with relief, and slid to sit down , feeling the burning cold of the stone flags through her robes. "What then? Don't fob me off, Draco I've been on edge all day down to you and if this explanation isn't good I'll pull your hair out strand by strand!"

He rolled his eyes and sat down next to her, putting his arm round her shoulders. "I know you've been worried." He took a deep breath. "You've probably been worried because of my family's reputation. Because you think I'm a Deatheater."

He felt her shudder as he said the word. "Well you're half right," he said, trying to keep his voice calm and matter-of-fact. "It's true that my father is Deatheater. My mother – well, she loves my father. She loves his totally, and she joined the Deatheaters unquestioningly because that was what he wanted, and she'll do what he thinks he would want her to, for love of him. It's her love for him that rules her life, and when I was little she tried to make me feel the same way."

He felt giddy with the strangeness of telling her what he had never spoken aloud before, giddy with a strange liberty and vulnerability. He licked lips that were suddenly dry, cleared his throat that was suddenly tight and close.

"It never worked as well as she wanted it to," he continued. "My father – well, he's everything that you'd expect a Deatheater to be. He's ambitious. He's so ambitious he'd do anything for power. And he's proud. People joke about the Malfoy pride, but it's true, we are, and him most of all. He doesn't just want power, he believes he deserves it. So yes, he's a Deatheater and close to the Dark Lord. And yes, he wants me to follow in his footsteps. I've known that as long as I can remember. And of course, my mother wants what he wants."

Ginny's eyes were wide and dark in the half-light as she gazed up at him, hardly daring to believe that this was Draco Malfoy, baring his heart to her.

"My mother isn't quite well," he told her with a catch in his voice. "Her mother – my grandmother – she went peculiar, when she got older. It runs in the family."

"Do you mean she's mad?" Ginny's voice was subdued.

"No!" the denial was fierce. "Not mad, just emotional, and nervous. She's had to deal with things no normal woman should, and her mind can't cope, that's all. It makes her look odd, I guess, to outsiders."

It sounded like madness to Ginny, but she kept quiet, wanting to hear the rest.

"It nearly killed her, when father was sent to Azkaban. I've never seen a woman so totally devastated as she was. And ever since then, all she's though about is making sure that everything is perfect for him when he gets out. I'm a part of that, obviously." He laughed, harshly. "Oh yes! Everyone's been laying their plans for Draco Malfoy. It's not just my parents, Gin. The Dark Lord himself knows who I am, and he'll expect me to join him when he calls me."

He stopped for a moment, trying to gage her reaction. The only sound was the soft swishing of feathers and the clicking of beaks. Draco gazed bleakly up into the darkness and tried to compose his thoughts.

"And I know you're wondering if that'd what I want – to answer the call, to join them. Isn't it?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "To be honest, I'm wondering that too. Because it's not such a simple choice as you might think."

Ginny shifted in his arms and made as if to speak, but thought better of it and just looked up at him, her face unreadable in the gloom.

"I'd like to think that I'm not..." he seemed to hesitate. "That I'm not _evil_. I don't want to hurt people, really. I can't see myself as a killer, or a torturer or anything that a Deatheater has to be. And I don't really think that a world the Dark Lord ruled would be one I'd like to live in, or one that I'd like to see you in.

"But I've been raised to it. I know that if I refused, it would kill my parents. It would be a total betrayal of everything they stand for, of everything they've brought me up to believe in. It would put their lives in danger, and mine. The Dark Lord doesn't tolerate traitors."

He swallowed. "And it would put your life in danger most of all. And probably other members of your family as well. It's only a matter of time before people start to realise what's happened with us."

"You know about the Order?"

Draco nodded. "I'm sure your family are all members."

"I probably shouldn't tell you, but yes. And I will be as soon as I'm of age." Ginny turned to him suddenly, her face set and her voice trembling with passion. "Draco, it kills me to hear you speak like this! Like it's normal! You've been raised to He Who Must Not Be Named, well I've been raised to the light! To everything that is good and worthwhile in life and I will stick to that and to my family not matter what! No matter what," she repeated fervently. "And I hope you aren't asking me to betray that, Draco. It would be like asking me to betray myself. It's part of who I am, to hate He Who Must Not Be Named and everyone who supports him."

"I know," Draco replied, closing his eyes against the pain. "But one of us is going to have to do exactly that, Gin. One of us is going to have to make that betrayal. Because there's no way we can live apart, I think we've established that by now. And the only way we can be together and – well, if not safe then at least in less danger – is if we're truly together. So we're going to have to make a choice."

"You'd ask me to betray everything I believe in? My family, who I love more than myself? For you?" Ginny's voice was harsh with

"Would you ask me to forfeit my honour, debase my oath of fealty, for you?"

They answered together. "Yes."

They sat in silence, each trying to push the dark thoughts away, concentrating on the physical things. The warmth of limbs, pressed together. The feel of hair tickling the soft skin of a neck. The inexpressible comfort of a pair of joined hands.

"I wish this moment would last forever," said Ginny softly. "Just being here, with you, alone. I wish that the rest of the world didn't matter."

Draco's lips twisted wryly. "I don't think there's such a thing as a perfect moment, Gin."

She lifted her face to his with a burning look in her eyes. "If there is, then this is it," she said fiercely, pulling his lips down to meet hers.

They kissed as if they could kiss their trouble away, as if the heat and the blazing passion of it could prevent the cruel, inexorable pace of time, ticking away the seconds until they had to make a choice. They kissed as if nothing mattered but each other, with desperate urgency. They would have kissed forever, if they could. But nothing could delay the inevitable and eventually they broke apart, lips red and smarting and eyes shining with emotion.

Draco took Ginny's hand and kissed it. She watched him, shivering to feel his lips grazing her knuckles, and shook her head like one coming out of a dream.

"This is what we're going to do," she said.

So...are you reviewing yet? No? Why not?


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